AUDUBON'S  WESTERN  JOURNAL 

1 849- 1 850 


OHN    WooDHoust  Audubon 


AUDUBON'S   WESTERN 
JOURNAL:  1849-1850 

Being  the  MS.  record  of  a  trip  from  New  York  to 

Texas,  and  an  overland  journey  through  Mexico 

and  Arizona  to  the  gold-fields  of  California 

BY 

JOHN  W.  AUDUBON 

With  biographical  memoir  by  his  daughter 
MARIA   R.  AUDUBON 

Introduction,  notes,  and  index  by 
FRANK  HEYWOOD   HODDER 

Professor  of  American  History,  University  of  Kansas 

With  folded  map,  portrait,  and  original  drawings 


UNIVE 


Cleveland 

The  Arthur  H.  Clark  Company 

1906 


BEESE 

COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY 

THE  ARTHUR  H.  CLARK  COMPANY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CONTENTS 

Introduction.     Frank  Heywood  Hodder     .         .  ii 

Biographical  Memoir.     Maria  E.  Audubon       .  21 
Audubon's  Western  Journal  :  1849-1850 

I.     New  York  to  Texas  ....  41 

II.     Disaster  in  the  Valley  of  the  Rio  Grande  58 

III.  Mexico    from    the    Rio    Grande    to    the 

Mountains       .  ....         84 

IV.  Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  to  Ahar       106 
V.     Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego.  .        146 

VI.     California  from  San  Diego  to  San  Fran- 
cisco        174 

VII.     A  Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  .         .         .199 

Appendix:     List  of  Members  of  the  Original 

Company 241 

Index 245 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

John  Woodhouse  Audubon      .         .         .    Frontispiece 

Jesus  Maria,  Looking  Northwest  ;  July  20,  1 849      123 

Twenty-five  Miles  West  of  Jesus  Maria;  July 

29,  1849 131 

San  Francisco,  Looking  East  from  the  West- 
ward Hills  toward  San  Jose;  May  30,  1850    191 

Hawkins's  Bar,  Tuolumne,  Looking  Southeast; 

April  I,  1850 219 

"A  Dry  Gulch"  at  Coloma,   Sutter's   Mills; 

May  2,  1850 235 

Map  OF  Audubon's  Route         .  At  end  of  vohimc 


INTRODUCTION 

Ordinarily  events  are  the  result  of  antecedent 
causes,  but  now  and  then  an  apparently  fortuitous 
incident  upsets  all  calculations  and  changes  the 
course  of  history  in  a  day.  Of  such  a  character 
was  the  discovery  of  gold  in  California.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  overstate  its  importance.  It  led 
directly  to  a  similar  discovery  in  Australia  and  the 
combined  output  of  the  two  fields  replenished  the 
world's  stock  of  precious  metals,  shaped  monetary 
systems,  stimulated  prices  and  powerfully  affected 
the  economic  and  industrial  development  of  the 
last  half  century.  Politically  for  the  United  States 
the  discovery  was  the  turning  point  in  the  struggle 
between  the  sections.  Texas  had  been  annexed  and 
the  South  West  wrung  from  Mexico  largely  for 
the  purpose  of  equalizing  slave  and  free  territory 
by  providing  the  South  with  an  outlet  for  Western 
emigration  comparable  in  extent  with  that  pos- 
sessed by  the  North.  The  instantaneous  settlement 
of  California  under  circumstances  unfavorable  to 
slavery  produced  a  free  state  and  gave  the  North 
a  majority  in  the  Senate.  The  attempt  to  recover 
the  lost  ground  brought  on  the  Kansas  struggle  and 
precipitated  the  war  that  destroyed  the  only  real 
cause  of  antagonism  between  the  sections.  Socially 
the  results  of  the  discovery  were  not  less  important. 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


Immediately  a  new  state  was  added  to  the  Union. 
Ultimately  the  necessity  of  joining  the  new  state 
to  the  older  ones  opened  the  West  to  settlement, 
built  the  trans-continental  railways,  reclaimed  the 
desert  and  peopled  the  continent.  Fifty  years  ago 
Congress  was  petitioned  to  import  "thirty  camels 
and  twenty  dromedaries"  and  their  use  as  a  means 
of  crossing  the  Western  deserts  was  seriously  dis- 
cussed in  books  and  newspapers.^  Today  there  is 
no  part  of  this  vast  territory  that  is  not  within 
easy  reach  of  the  railroad.  Of  the  remarkable 
things  accomplished  in  the  United  States  perhaps 
the  most  remarkable  is  the  rapid  movement  of  pop- 
ulation from  seaboard  to  seaboard,  and  yet  this 
movement  has  been  strangely  neglected  by  histor- 
ians. They  follow  minutely  the  course  of  Coro- 
nado  and  Radisson  but  know  little  of  J.  S.  Smith 
and  scarcely  take  the  trouble  to  trace  the  routes  of 
even  so  famous  an  explorer  as  John  C.  Fremont. 
They  devote  much  space  to  the  difficulties  of  set- 
tling Jamestown  and  Plymouth  and  very  little  to 
the  hardships  of  the  overland  journey.  They  care- 
fully trace  the  campaigns  of  the  War  of  1812  but 
barely  mention  the  wars  that  have  won  the  conti- 
nent from  the  Indians.  As  throwing  a  side-light 
upon  one  phase  of  this  neglected  movement  Audu- 
bon's "Journal"  is  presented  to  the  public.  But 
quite  apart  from  this,  the  book  is  interesting  as  a 


An  experiment  with  camels  was  tried  and  proved  a  failure. 


Introduction 


human  document.  Not  only  does  it  reflect  the 
energy  and  strength  of  character  of  the  author  but 
the  glimpse  it  gives  of  the  constancy  of  the  greater 
part  of  his  companions  and  of  man's  humanity  to 
man  under  the  most  trying  circumstances  strength- 
ens faith  in  the  essential  soundness  of  human 
nature. 

The  Californian  discovery  was  made  in  January 
of  1848.  Wildly  exaggerated  rumors  of  what  had 
been  found  reached  the  Eastern  states  by  the  mid- 
dle of  the  following  September.  Official  reports 
were  received  in  Washington  in  time  for  mention 
in  the  President's  annual  message  of  December  5. 
The  rush  to  California  had  already  begun.  As  the 
continent  could  not  be  crossed  in  the  winter,  the 
earliest  to  start  went  by  water.  Large  numbers 
embarked  upon  the  long  and  dreary  voyage  around 
the  Horn  or  rushed  to  Panama  and  Nicaragua  to 
take  ship  from  the  Pacific  seaports.  As  the  spring 
opened,  crowds  collected  at  Independence,  Mis- 
souri, ready  to  begin  the  overland  journey  in  May, 
which  was  as  early  as  it  was  safe  to  start.  There 
were  two  overland  routes  from  this  point.  The 
northern  one  followed  the  Oregon  Trail  to  Fort 
Hall  and  from  there  crossed  by  way  of  the  Hum- 
boldt River  and  over  the  Sierra  Nevadas  to  Cali- 
fornia. The  southern  route  followed  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail  to  Santa  Fe,  where  the  emigrants  divided, 
a  part  taking  the  ''Old  Spanish  Trail"  to  the  north 


14  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

and  a  part  General  Kearny's  route  along  the  Gila 
on  the  south.  While  some  of  the  emigrants  went 
as  individuals,  by  far  the  larger  number  went  in 
companies.  Stock  was  subscribed  to  meet 
expenses,  often  by  men  who  did  not  go  in  person, 
and  the  companies  were  organized  for  mutual  assis- 
tance and  defense.  The  company  which  Mr. 
Audubon  joined  was  financed  by  his  friends,  the 
Kingslands,  and  was  to  be  led  by  Col.  Henry  L. 
Webb.  Colonel  Webb,  a  New  Yorker  by  birth, 
had  joined  the  volunteers  from  Illinois  at  the  out- 
break of  the  Mexican  war,  and  later  had  been  pro- 
moted to  the  command  of  a  regiment.  Having 
served  in  Mexico,  he  knew  something  of  the  coun- 
try. Partly  for  this  reason  but  chiefly  no  doubt 
in  order  to  get  an  earlier  start,  the  company  was 
to  take  the  Mexican  route.  The  wisdom  of  the 
choice  might  have  been  vindicated  but  for  the  loss 
of  life  and  the  delay  caused  by  the  cholera.  This 
scourge  was  not,  however,  confined  to  the  southern 
routes.  Carried  up  by  the  river  boats  to  Indepen- 
dence, it  attacked  the  emigrants  before  leaving  on 
their  journey  and,  pursuing  them  to  the  mountains, 
lined  the  roads  across  the  plains  with  newly  made 
graves. 

Leaving  New  York,  February  8,  1849,  with 
about  eighty  men  and  a  capital  of  $27,000,  Mr. 
Audubon  proceeded  by  water  to  Philadelphia  and 
Baltimore,  took  the  railroad  to  Cumberland  and 


Introduction  15 


thence  crossed  the  AUeghanies  by  stage  to  Browns- 
ville and  Pittsburg.  Here  the  company  took  a 
river  boat  for  Cairo,  where  they  were  joined  by 
Colonel  Webb.  Changing  boats  they  descended 
the  Mississippi  to  New  Orleans,  which  they 
reached  February  18,  ten  days  after  leaving  New 
York.  After  some  time  spent  here  in  the  purchase 
of  supplies,  they  took  a  boat  for  Brazos  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Rio  Grande.  From  Brazos  they 
were  carried  up  the  Rio  Grande  to  a  point  opposite 
Rio  Grande  City,  where  they  landed  on  the  tenth 
of  March.  Here  they  were  attacked  by  the  chol- 
era and  ten  men  succumbed  to  the  dread  disease. 
To  add  to  their  distress,  the  company's  money  was 
stolen  and  only  after  great  difficulty  was  a  part 
of  it  recovered.  Discouraged  by  disease  and  mis- 
fortune, twenty  of  the  men  turned  back.  Then 
Colonel  Webb  deserted  his  company,  the  men  at 
the  same  time  refusing  to  go  on  under  his  leader- 
ship. For  a  time  it  seemed  that  the  journey  would 
be  abandoned  but  about  half  of  the  men  asked  Mr. 
Audubon  to  lead  them  and  bound  themselves  to 
go  on  under  his  command.  More  than  a  month 
was  required  for  reorganization  and  for  the  recov- 
ery of  the  sick,  so  that  it  was  not  until  April  28 
that  the  start  was  really  made.  They  were  now 
as  late  as  the  emigrants  who  started  by  the  northern 
routes,  and  were  further  from  their  goal. 


l6  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Leaving  the  Rio  Grande  at  Roma,  the  company 
took  the  main  road  to  Chihuahua,  passing  through 
Monterey,  Saltillo,  Buena  Vista,  Parras,  and  Ma- 
pimi  and  reaching  Parral  June  i8.  Cholera  still 
followed  them  and  here  claimed  another  victim. 
Mr.  Audubon  had  been  twice  attacked  but  had 
been  able  to  resist  the  disease.  At  Parral  the  com- 
pany left  the  highway  and  struck  across  the  moun- 
tains to  Sonora.  On  the  western  slope  towns  were 
few  and  far  between.  Ures  was  reached  August 
22  and  Altar  September  9.  Leaving  Altar  they 
entered  a  desert  inhabited  only  by  Indians  living 
on  lizards  and  grasshoppers.  At  the  Pima  vil- 
lages on  the  Gila  they  reached  the  line  of  General 
Kearny's  march,  which  had  become  the  southern 
emigrant  route.  The  march  through  the  Gila  val- 
ley to  the  Colorado  proved  the  most  trying  part 
of  the  journey.  With  supplies  for  the  men 
exhausted,  without  grass  for  the  mules,  and  with 
little  water  for  either,  the  limit  of  endurance  was 
almost  reached.  Crossing  the  Colorado,  the  com- 
pany turned  northward  through  the  desert  to  the 
mountain  passes  and  then  southward  to  San  Diego, 
whence  they  followed  the  trail  to  Los  Angeles. 
Here  Mr.  Audubon  decided  to  send  the  greater 
part  of  the  company  to  San  Francisco  by  sea,  while 
he,  with  ten  of  the  men,  drove  the  mules  through 
by  land.  Crossing  the  coast  range  the  route  now 
followed  the  Tulare  valley  and  the  San  Joaquin 


Introduction  17 


River  to  Stockton.  At  San  Francisco  the  company 
was  reunited  and  from  here  started  for  a  tour  of 
the  southern  mines.  Finding  that  they  were 
already  crowded  and  that  the  first  fruits  had  been 
gathered,  Mr.  Audubon  turned  with  his  friend 
Layton  to  the  northern  mines.  The  two  proceeded 
to  Sacramento  and  thence  to  Coloma  and  George- 
town, where  the  journal  suddenly  stops.  The  trip 
was  probably  interrupted  at  this  point  and  Mr. 
Audubon  called  back  to  San  Francisco  to  make 
preparations  for  his  return  home. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  this  long  journey  Mr. 
Audubon  took  notes  of  scenes  and  occurrences  by 
the  way.  In  his  descriptions  he  exhibits  the  keen 
observation  of  the  naturalist  and  the  trained  eye 
of  the  artist.  The  result  is  a  remarkable  picture  of 
social  conditions  in  Mexico,  of  birds  and  trees,  of 
sky  and  mountains  and  the  changing  face  of  nature, 
of  the  barrenness  of  the  desert  and  the  difficulties 
of  the  journey,  of  the  ruined  missions  of  California, 
of  methods  of  mining,  and  of  the  chaos  of  races 
and  babel  of  tongues  in  the  gold  fields.  It  was 
manifestly  impossible  to  keep  a  daily  journal,  and 
the  entries  were  made  from  time  to  time  as  oppor- 
tunity occurred.  Considering  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  were  taken,  the  notes  are  remark- 
able for  their  accuracy.  It  was  Mr.  Audubon's 
intention  to  rewrite  and  to  publish  them  in  ten 
parts.     One  part  was  printed  privately  and  given 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


to  a  few  friends  but  distractions  at  home  prevented 
the  continuance  of  the  work.  The  notes  were 
taken  in  a  series  of  little  books  from  which  they 
have  been  faithfully  transcribed  by  his  daughter. 
The  only  omissions  are  a  few  personal  references, 
which  form  no  essential  part  of  the  narrative  and 
which  she  has  thought  best  not  to  print.  A  few 
corrections  have  been  made  in  the  orthography 
of  common  words  which  were  misspelled  as  a 
result  of  the  haste  in  which  they  were  written. 
Where  names  of  places  and  Spanish  words  were 
spelled  phonetically,  the  correct  forms  have  been 
enclosed  in  brackets  or  given  in  notes  at  the  places 
where  they  first  occur.  In  all  essential  respects  the 
notes  are  printed  exactly  as  they  were  left  by  their 
author.  Many  of  the  names  of  places  are  names 
of  haciendas  and  ranchos,  some  of  which  could  not 
be  identified.  Of  those  identified,  there  is  some 
variation  in  spelling  upon  the  Mexican  maps  of 
the  period.  A  few  notes  have  been  added  chiefly 
in  explanation  of  personal  references  in  the  text. 
The  great  bulk  of  Mr.  Audubon's  sketches  was 
lost.  A  few  of  those  that  were  saved  have  been 
reproduced  and  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Audubon,  taken 
in  1853,  has  been  added,  together  with  a  map  of 
his  route.  F.  H.  H. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIR 


BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIR 

John  Woodhouse  Audubon,  the  younger  of  the 
two  sons  of  John  James  Audubon  and  his  wife, 
Lucy  Bakewell,  was  born  in  Henderson,  Kentucky, 
November  30,  181 2.  Those  who  recall  the  life  of 
the  ornithologist  may  remember  that  at  this  time 
he  was  far  from  his  days  of  prosperity,  and  was 
trying  to  be  a  business  man,  with  saw-mills  and 
lumber;  a  venture,  which  like  all  his  business 
efforts,  did  not  succeed.  Therefore,  almost  before 
the  boy  John  remembered,  the  wandering  days 
began  for  him,  which  continued  virtually  all  his 
life.  During  his  boyhood  these  wanderings  were 
chiefly  confined  to  that  portion  of  the  United 
States  south  of  the  Ohio  River,  and  largely  to 
Louisiana,  a  section  of  country  he  always  loved. 

As  a  child,  though  small  and  slender,  he  was 
strong  and  active  and  delighted  in  the  open  air  life 
which  was  indeed  his  second  nature;  and  he  was 
proficient  in  swimming,  shooting,  fishing  and  all 
out-door  sports  and  pleasures,  while  still  a  boy. 
He  was  rather  averse  to  the  needful  studies  which 
kept  him  from  the  woods  and  streams,  but  which 
his  mother  never  permitted  him  to  neglect.  She 
was,  herself,  the  teacher  of  her  sons  in  their  earlier 
years,  and  a  most  thorough  one,  as  later  generations 
can  testify,  sending  them  to  school  only  when  she 


22  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

realized  that  they  needed  contact  with  boys  of 
their  own  age;  but  the  home  education  was  never 
given  up.  Both  she  and  Mr.  Audubon  were 
excellent  musicians,  great  readers,  and  most 
desirous  that  their  children  should  be  prepared, 
as  fully  as  possible,  to  enter  the  world  as  educated, 
and  even  accomplished  men.  Drawing  was  an 
important  matter  always,  and  both  sons,  Victor 
and  John,  became  well  skilled  in  this  art,  but  in 
different  lines,  the  first  in  landscape,  the  second  in 
delineating  birds  and  quadrupeds  —  or  as  the 
scientists  say  today,  mammals  —  the  latter  being 
his  specialty,  though  the  first  intention  was  that  he 
should  be  a  portrait  painter. 

The  boys  while  children  were  usually  together, 
and  were  sent  to  school  at  the  same  time,  though 
Victor  was  three  years  the  elder,  but  at  times  they 
were  separated.  Victor  was  a  quiet,  studious  boy, 
and  a  great  favorite  with  the  elder  members  of  his 
mother's  family,  the  Bakewells,  while  John,  who 
was  full  of  mischief,  very  restless,  always  most 
successful  in  getting  his  young  cousins  as  well  as 
himself  into  all  sorts  of  scrapes,  was  naturally  less 
in  demand.  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Audubon  were 
wandering  from  place  to  place,  Victor  was  fre- 
quently with  relatives  in  Louisville,  and  at  an 
early  age  became  a  clerk  in  the  office  of  Mr. 
Nicholas  Berthoud,  who  had  married  a  sister  of 
Mrs.  Audubon.     He  was  in  this  position  when 


Biographical  Memoir  23 

his  father  sailed  for  England  in  1826,  while  John 
remained  in  Louisiana  with  his  mother  at  Bayou 
Sara,  where  she  was  then  teaching. 

At  this  period  of  his  life  John  spent  much  time 
drawing  from  nature,  and  playing  the  violin,  of 
which  he  was  passionately  fond  all  his  life.  While 
his  father  was  pushing  the  publication  of  "The 
Birds  of  America"  in  England  and  Scotland,  he 
at  one  time  supplemented  the  slender  finances  of 
the  family,  in  a  small  way,  by  taking  occasional 
trips  on  the  Mississippi  river  steamboats  as  a  clerk. 
It  was  very  uncongenial  work  to  the  restless  youth, 
and,  from  what  can  be  learned,  was  rather  indiffer- 
ently done;  but  he  was  a  great  favorite  with  all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  and  usually  found 
some  one  to  help  him  over  his  mistakes,  and  indeed 
on  occasion  to  do  his  work,  while  he,  with  his  violin 
was  in  great  demand  on  the  decks  of  the  steam- 
boats, in  those  days  scenes  of  much  gaiety,  some  of 
which  was  of  more  than  doubtful  quality.  After  a 
comparatively  short  season  of  mingled  work  and 
play,  Mrs.  Audubon  withdrew  him  from  what 
Louisianians  called  "the  river,"  and  he  returned  to 
his  work  in  painting  and  in  collecting  specimens 
which  his  father  wanted  for  the  various  friends  and 
scientists  with  whom  he  was  now  constantly  in 
touch. 

The  elder  Audubon  upon  his  return  from 
Europe  took  the  family,   after  a   few  weeks   in 


24  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Louisiana,  further  north,  and  they  were  some  time 
in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia  and  New  York.  In 
1830  the  two  brothers  were  left  in  America  while 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Audubon  were  in  England  and 
France,  and  again  John  tried  his  hand  at  clerkship 
with  better  success  than  in  his  earlier  years,  but 
not  for  long. 

On  his  return  to  America  Mr.  Audubon  made 
plans  for  a  summer  in  Labrador  and  in  1833  made 
this  journey,  John  with  three  other  young  men 
accompanying  him.  The  days  were  not  only  long, 
but  arduous.  John  was  not  quite  twenty-one,  and 
his  love  of  fun  was  as  strong  as  in  his  boyhood,  but 
he  found  none  in  being  called  at  three  in  the 
morning  to  search  for  birds,  being  frequently 
drenched  to  the  skin  all  day,  and  working  with 
bird  skins  through  "the  interminable  twilights." 
Nevertheless  he  and  his  young  companions  found 
time  to  rob  salmon  preserves  when  the  fishermen 
would  not  sell,  to  slip  on  land  when  opportunity 
ofifered,  to  attend  some  of  the  very  primitive  balls 
and  other  amusements  to  be  found  on  these  desolate 
shores,  and  to  extract  pleasures  which  perhaps 
youth  alone  could  have  found  among  such  sur- 
roundings. 

So  passed  the  years  taking  boyhood  and  youth 
with  them  until  1834,  when  the  Audubon  family 
all  went  to  England  and  Scotland,  where  both 
young  men  painted  very  steadily,  making  copies  of 


Biographical  Memoir  25 

many  of  the  celebrated  pictures  within  reach  of 
which  they  now  found  themselves.  At  this  time 
John  confined  himself  almost  wholly  to  copying 
portraits,  principally  those  of  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence, whose  friendship  was  most  valuable  to  him, 
of  Van  Dyke  and  Murillo,  and,  when  in  Edin- 
burgh, giving  great  attention  to  the  beautiful  work 
of  Sir  Henry  Raeburn.  Some  of  these  early  pic- 
tures are  still  in  the  possession  of  the  family, 
though  many  were  sold  and  many  given  away. 
He  also  painted  some  water  colors  of  birds,  which 
are  said  to  be  good  work  by  those  who  know  them. 

This  period  of  study  was  broken,  however,  by  a 
trip  to  the  continent  taken  by  the  brothers  together. 
The  route  followed  was  the  one  then  called  "The 
Grand  Tour,"  extending  as  far  as  Italy.  The 
brothers,  always  most  closely  united,  congenial  in 
thoughts  and  tastes,  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  novel 
scenes  and  experiences,  for  which  they  were  well 
fitted  both  physically  and  mentally.  They  were  tall, 
handsome  young  men,  full  of  health  and  strength, 
and  the  joyousness  of  youth.  The  careful  prepara- 
tion in  the  reading  of  books  of  travel  and  literature, 
and  the  fact  that  they  were  excellent  French  schol- 
ars, added  greatly  to  the  interest  of  the  journey. 

But  busier  days  than  these  were  in  store,  when 
the  Audubons  returned  to  America,  and  the  collec- 
tion of  new  species  demanded  the  attention  of  the 
naturalist,  and  the  assistance  of  his  sons.     Victor 


26  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

attended  to  most  of  the  business  details,  partly  in 
England  and  partly  in  America,  while  my  father 
and  grandfather  searched  the  woods,  and  in  1836 
went  as  far  south  as  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  It  was 
at  the  beginning  of  this  trip  that,  passing  through 
Charleston,  a  visit  was  paid  to  the  home  of  Dr. 
John  Bachman,  and  the  attachment  began  between 
my  father  and  Maria  Bachman,  which  resulted  in 
their  marriage  in  1837. 

Shortly  after  John  and  his  young  wife  went  to 
[England,  where  his  father  had  again  gone  to  super- 
intend the  continued  publication  of  the  plates  in 
London,  and  here  their  first  child,  Lucy,  was  born. 
Six  months  later,  John  with  his  wife  and  child 
returned  to  America.  The  next  two  years  were 
spent  partly  in  New  York,  partly  in  the  south,  in 
the  vain  hope  of  finding  health  and  strength  for  the 
delicate  young  mother,  but  all  was  unavailing,  and 
she  died  leaving  two  little  daughters,  one  an  infant. 
Later  John  Audubon  married  an  English  lady, 
Caroline  Hall,  and  to  them  seven  children  were 
born,  five  of  whom  lived  to  maturity. 

At  this  time  the  country  place  on  the  Hudson 
river  near  New  York  City,  which  had  been  bought 
in  1840,  was  built  upon.  Today  it  is  well  nigh 
lost  in  the  rapidly  advancing  streets  and  avenues, 
but  at  this  time  it  was  almost  primitive  forest,  and 
here  for  some  years  lived  the  naturalist  and  his 
wife,  with  the  two  sons  and  their  respective  fam- 


Biographical  Memoir  27 

ilies.  It  is  hard  today  to  picture  the  surroundings 
of  that  time.  No  railroad  cut  ofif  the  waters  of 
the  lovely  river,  then  the  highway  from  the  ocean 
to  Albany,  and  alive  with  craft  of  many  kinds. 
The  other  three  sides  were  heavily  wooded;  and 
neighbors  there  were  none,  for  it  was  not  until 
some  years  later  that  other  homes  began  slowly  to 
appear  here  and  there.  Few  if  any  of  the  friends 
of  the  Audubons  in  those  days  are  left  on  earth,  and 
the  houses  where  they  once  lived  have,  with  few 
exceptions,  either  been  torn  down  or  so  altered  that 
their  former  owners  would  not  recognize  them. 

Minniesland  with  its  large  gardens  and  orchards, 
especially  celebrated  for  peaches,  its  poultry  yards 
and  dairy  which  added  to  the  comfort  of  the  home 
and  of  the  many  guests  who  always  found  a  wel- 
come there,  had  an  interesting  side  in  the  elk,  deer, 
moose,  foxes,  wolves  and  other  wildwood  creatures 
which  were  kept  for  study  and  pleasure;  and  still 
another  in  the  books,  pictures  and  curios  within 
the  ever  hospitable  house,  but  more  than  all  was 
the  charm  of  the  tall  gray-haired  old  man,  who 
by  talent,  industry,  and  almost  incredible  persever- 
ance won  it  for  those  he  loved. 

The  early  days  at  Minniesland  were  very  happy 
ones  for  all.  The  "Quadrupeds  of  North  America" 
had  been  begun  and  was  of  intense  interest  to  father 
and  sons,  and  the  work  he  was  doing  for  this 
publication,  the  superintendence  of  the  animal  life 


28  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

about  the  home,  the  varied  enjoyments  and  duties 
of  the  country  place  gave  my  father  ample  occu- 
pation. He  loved  the  Hudson  and  the  Palisades, 
the  woods  and  walks  about  him,  was  devoted  to  his 
family  and  these  were  years  he  delighted  to  recall. 

Many  men  were  employed  in  one  capacity  or 
another  and  "Mr.  John,"  as  he  was  always  called, 
was  a  great  favorite.  He  had  the  rare  gift  of 
keeping  these  men  friends,  while  he  was  perfectly 
understood  to  be  the  master;  they  were  thoroughly 
at  home  with  him,  yet  never  familiar,  and  this 
position,  so  difficult  to  maintain,  he  held  with  all. 
As  the  village  of  Manhattanville,  a  little  lower 
down  the  river,  grew  in  size,  many  of  the  men  from 
there  used  to  walk  up  on  summer  evenings  to  help 
"haul  the  seine;"  for  fish  were  plentiful  and  good 
in  the  Hudson  then;  and  where  "Mr.  John"  was, 
disturbance  or  insolence  was  unknown,  his  orders 
to  each  man  were  respected,  his  division  of  fish 
always  satisfied. 

An  interruption  in  this  tranquil  life  came  in  1843' 
when  Audubon  the  elder  went  to  the  Yellowstone 
.  country,  and  both  sons  were  anxious  about  their 
father  until  his  return ;  they  felt  that  he  was  too  old 
for  such  an  arduous  journey,  but  he  was  determined 
to  go,  and  his  safe  return  ended  all  alarm  for  his 
safety.  Another  break  came  in  1845  when  my 
father  went  to  Texas  to  find  mammals  to  depict  in 
the  new  work  being  published,  and  possibly  birds 


Biographical  Memoir  29 

not  yet  described.  He  took  with  him  as  sole 
companion  of  his  travels  James  B.  Clement,  one 
of  the  men  about  the  place,  in  whom  he  had  —  and 
most  justly  —  perfect  confidence.  He  was  in 
Texas  many  months,  travelling  quite  extensively, 
and  at  a  time  when  the  Indians  were  not  friendly. 
Even  more  danger  might  be  apprehended  from  the 
white  men  of  desperate  character,  who  had  drifted 
to  that  region  either  to  escape  punishment  for 
previous  crimes,  or  to  find  themselves  so  far  from 
law  and  order  that  they  could  commit  fresh  ones 
in  safety.  It  was  on  this  trip  that  my  father  met 
Colonel  Hays,  well  known  then  as  "Jack  Hays  the 
Texan  Ranger,"  between  whom  and  himself  a 
strong  friendship  was  formed,  and  to  whom  my 
father  felt  much  indebted;  as,  knowing  the  country 
so  well,  Colonel  Hays  gave  him  valuable  aid  in 
choosing  routes,  selecting  Indians  as  guides  and 
hunters,  and  in  avoiding  camps  and  settlements 
w^here  he  would  certainly  have  been  robbed,  and 
possibly  murdered,  had  he  offered  to  protect  his 
possessions,  for  at  that  time  all  money  had  to  be 
carried  in  coin. 

Upon  this  journey  my  father  was  very  successful 
in  securing  specimens.  When  he  returned  he 
brought  one  of  his  hunters,  a  half-breed  Indian 
named  Henry  Clay,  a  name  which  had  probably 
been  given  to  him  in  jest.  This  man  was  my 
father's  shadow;  he  was  very  skillful  in  the  care  of 


30  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

the  animals,  a  splendid  boatman  and  fisherman  and 
very  valuable  about  the  place.  But  civilization 
was  too  wearisome  for  him,  he  left  two  or  three 
times  and  came  back,  but  about  1852  returned  to 
Texas  with  Captain  McCown.^ 

In  1846,  the  year  following  the  Texan  journey, 
John  Audubon  with  his  wife  and  children  went  to 
[Europe,  in  order  that  he  might  paint  pictures  — 
still  for  the  "Quadrupeds"  —  from  some  of  the 
specimens  he  could  find  only  in  the  zoological 
collections  of  London,  Paris  and  Berlin,  and  he 
was  absent  on  this  work  more  than  a  year  and  a 
half.  It  was  a  period  of  most  arduous  work;  his 
letters  home  were  very  short,  though  he  was  an  easy 
and  rapid  writer.  The  reason  for  this  brevity 
was,  as  he  often  explains,  that  his  arm  and  hand 
were  tired  with  the  long  days  of  steady  painting; 
particularly  when  the  fur  of  the  animals  he  was 
delineating  was  of  unusual  length,  for  this  was 
before  the  days  of  "dabs  and  smudges"  and  minute- 
ness of  detail  was  insisted  on  both  by  the  elder 
Audubon  and  by  the  engravers.  These  were  long 
months  to  him  as  most  of  them  were  passed  in 
crowded  cities,  where  he  missed  the  forests  and 
rivers,  his  home  and  the  free  life  to  which  he  was 
accustomed.  Many  times  in  the  letters  written 
to  those  at  Minniesland,  he  declares  his  intention 

*  John  Porter  McCown  resigned  his  commission  in  1861 
to  join  the  Confederate  army,  in  which  he  served  through  the 
war  as  a  major  general.  —  F.  H.  H. 


Biographical  Memoir  31 

of  never  leaving  home  again,  an  intention  he  was 
unable  to  carry  out. 

In  1849  he  joined  a  California  company,  being 
urged  thereto  by  the  Messrs.  Kingsland,  who  were 
warm  personal  friends  and  who  were  then  backing 
Col.  Henry  L.  Webb  who  had  been  in  Mexico  and 
advocated  that  route  for  the  company  he  was 
collecting.  My  father's  idea  was  that  such  a  jour- 
ney offered  splendid  opportunities  to  secure  spec- 
imens of  birds  and  mammals.  It  was  proposed 
that  he  should  give  the  company  his  knowledge  of 
a  backwoodsman's  life,  which  was  extensive,  and 
be  second  in  command  to  Colonel  Webb,  a  respon- 
sibility which  he  rather  hesitated  to  accept,  as  he 
wished  the  freedom  of  leaving  the  party  anywhere 
he  chose  after  reaching  California.  Finally, 
however,  he  signed  papers  with  Messrs.  Daniel  C. 
and  Ambrose  Kingsland,  and  Cornelius  Sutton, 
(Colonel  Webb  signing  also),  to  stay  with  the 
company  for  one  year,  when  they  expected  to  reach 
their  destination  and  be  on  the  high  road  to  wealth. 

In  Colonel  Webb's  company  the  contracts  were 
individual.  The  company  supplied  everything 
but  the  personal  belongings  of  each  man  and  his 
horse,  and  he  in  return  was  supposed  to  repay  with 
legal  interest  his  share  of  expenses  when  he  reached 
the  El  Dorado,  and  to  this  end  his  work  and  his 
earnings  were  the  company's  for  a  year  from  the 
time  of  signing.     If  when  the  contracts  expired 


32  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

there  were  any  profits,  these  were  to  be  divided  in 
a  certain  ratio.  My  father's  contract  was  signed 
January  31,  1849,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  going 
induced  many  of  his  personal  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances to  join  also.  Almost  all  the  men  employed 
at  Minniesland  went  with  "Mr.  John."  To  the 
daughter  of  one  of  these,  Mrs.  Alice  Walsh  Tone, 
I  am  much  indebted  for  help  in  names  and  dates. 

The  journey  across  the  continent  in  1849  with 
no  regular  means  of  communication  with  home  and 
friends,  through  a  country  virtually  unknown,  and 
when  Indians  were  still  numerous;  without  cities 
to  enable  travelers  to  get  fresh  supplies  of  food  and 
clothing,  and  with  no  very  definite  knowledge  of 
the  road,  was  a  serious  matter  under  the  best  of 
conditions  and  on  the  best  route.  What  it  was 
with  men  who,  with  few  exceptions,  knew  nothing 
of  the  life  before  them,  who  were  impoverished  by 
robbery,  discouraged  by  death  and  disease  and 
deserted  by  their  leader,  upon  a  route  of  which 
my  father  never  approved,  may  be  best  learned 
from  his  "Journal."  The  journey  was  a  terrible 
disappointment  to  him,  as  he  says:  "my  arsenic 
is  broadcast  on  the  barren  clay  soil  of  Mexico,  the 
paper  in  which  to  preserve  plants  was  used  for 
gun-wadding,  and,  though  I  clung  to  them  to  the 
last,  my  paints  and  canvases  were  left  on  the  Gila 
desert  of  awful  memories." 

In  July,   1850,  he  sailed  for  home,  which  he 


Biographical  Memoir  33' 

reached  in  safety  after  the  delay  of  a  week  at  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama.  Most  unfortunately  all  his 
paintings,  which  were  of  course  sketches  to  be 
worked  up  from  notes,  and  most  of  the  water  colors 
he  had  made,  nearly  two  hundred  in  all,  had  to  be 
left  temporarily  at  Sacramento;  later  they  were 
taken  to  San  Francisco  and  Mr.  Robert  Simson 
took  charge  of  them  for  a  time.  He  entrusted 
them,  at  my  father's  request,  to  Mr.  John 
Stevens  and  with  that  noble  man  and  true  friend 
they  went  down  in  the  wreck  of  the  steamer  "Cen- 
tral America." 

It  would  be  interesting  to  follow  the  careers  of 
those  who  made  the  California  journey  with  my 
father,  but  the  lapse  of  fifty-six  years  makes  this 
almost  impossible,  and  very  few  traces  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  party  can  be  found,  nor  indeed  can  any 
full  list  of  those  who  left  New  Orleans  with  him 
be  made.  James  B.  Clement  remained  in  Stock- 
ton as  did  Nicholas  Walsh  and  John  H.  Tone; 
they  became  fruit  growers  and  were  successful  in 
the  land  of  their  adoption.  Henry  C.  Mallory 
entered  business  in  San  Francisco,  married  and 
lived  in  that  city  until  his  death,  now  a  number  of 
years  ago.  Robert  Simson  died  not  long  since;  he 
lived  for  some  time  in  San  Francisco,  being  a 
partner  in  a  legal  firm,  afterwards  removing  to 
Alameda.  He  married  rather  late  in  life,  and  left  a 
Vidow  and  one  son.     Langdon  Havens  returned 


34  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

to  his  home  at  Fort  Washington  and  many  others 
also  came  back  to  the  east.  The  greater  part  of 
the  company,  I  believe,  remained  upon  the  Pacific 
Slope;  but  I  have  been  unable  to  locate  them  or 
their  descendants,  except  in  the  few  instances  I 
have  mentioned.  Though  the  company  proved  an 
utter  failure  financially,  yet  nearly  every  man 
eventually  reimbursed  the  Messrs.  Kingsland  for 
their  outlay,  and  in  five  instances  the  friends  of 
those  who  died  did  for  them  that,  which  living 
they  would  doubtless  have  done  for  themselves. 

At  the  time  of  the  California  journey  my  father 
was  thirty-six,  tall,  strong  and  alert  though  always 
slender,  keen  of  vision  and  hearing,  quick  in  move- 
ment and  temperament,  and  with  most  tender  and 
skillful  hands  as  those  have  testified  whom  he 
nursed  in  the  dreadful  cholera  days.  He  had 
inherited  from  his  father  the  gift  of  making  and 
keeping  friends  among  all  classes,  and  of  giving 
them  confidence  in  him  —  the  result  of  his  quick 
and  deep  sympathy,  his  unselfishness  and  his  abso- 
lute truthfulness.  He  was  never  indolent;  what- 
ever work  had  to  be  done,  his  was  the  hardest  part 
—  he  never  shirked,  never  grumbled.  As  evidence 
of  this  trait  of  his  character  I  quote  from  one  of  his 
companions.  Lieutenant  Browning,  whose  son  has 
kindly  given  me  some  extracts  from  his  letters : 
"Mr.  Audubon  is  always  doing  somebody's  else 
work  as  well  as  his  own;"  "Mr.  Audubon  never 


Biographical  Memoir  35 

thinks  of  himself,  I  never  knew  such  a  big-hearted 
man."  I  will  touch  on  only  one  other  character- 
istic. He  was  subject  to  periods  of  the  deepest 
depressions,  a  trait  also  inherited  from  his  father, 
which  sometimes^wei^ed  his  spirits  down  for 
days,  and  which  l^fcmed  impossible  for  him  to 
dispel.  Often  on'tms  California  journey  the  effort 
to  appear  bright  and  cheerful  when  he  was  in  one 
of  these  moods  physically  exhausted  him,  and  in 
some  of  his  letters  he  speaks  of  the  relief  it  was 
when  night  came  and  he  was  alone,  and  had  no 
need  to  look  or  be  other  than  he  felt.  He  never 
outlived  these  attacks  as  the  naturalist  did,  perhaps 
because  his  life  was  so  much  shorter. 

My  father's  home-coming  showed  him  many  sad 
changes,  for  his  father  was  now  not  only  an  old 
but  a  broken  man,  and  the  spirit  of  the  home  was 
no  longer  joyous.  Father,  mother,  and  sons  had 
always  been  most  united,  unusually  so  it  seems,  as 
many  incidents  and  events  are  recalled.  Possibly 
this  deep  affection  was  the  result  of  the  struggles 
of  early  days,  which,  throwing  them  so  much  on 
each  other  for  companionship,  developed  a  sym- 
pathy with  one  another  which  lives  full  of  separate 
interests  would  not  have  fostered  —  possibly  the 
great  similarity  of  work  and  tastes  drew  them 
closer  to  each  other  than  when  such  conditions  do 
not  exist,  but  whatever  the  reason,  it  is  certain  that 
the   ties  which   held   them   together  were   never 


36  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

loosened  but  by  death;  and  so,  when  in  January, 
1 85 1,  he  who  had  been  the  light  of  the  home  passed 
away,  the  break  was  most  keenly  and  deeply  felt. 

In  1853  two  new  houses  near  the  original  one, 
now  grown  too  small  for  ithe  many  children,  were 
completed  and  these  Victofflmd  John  Audubon 
occupied  with  their  families,  the  mother  living 
with  one  son  or  the  other  as  the  spirit  moved  her. 
The  continued  publication  of  "The  Quadrupeds" 
and  the  octavo  edition  of  "The  Birds"  occupied 
both  my  uncle  and  father.  The  latter  reduced  all 
the  large  plates  of  the  birds  to  the  desired  size  by 
means  of  the  camera  lucida,  his  delicate  and  exact 
work  fitting  him  for  the  exquisitely  minute  details 
required.  Much  of  each  winter  was  spent  in  the 
southern  states,  securing  subscribers. 

In  1853  a  great  sorrow  came  in  the  death  of  a 
little  daughter,  and  soon  after  even  a  heavier. 
Victor  Audubon  began  to  fail  in  health,  the  result 
of  a  fall  which  at  the  time  was  thought  to  be  of 
no  moment,  but  which  had  injured  the  spine. 
Through  long  years  it  was  agony  to  my  father  to 
witness  the  constant  decline  of  the  brother  with 
whom  his  entire  life  was  so  intimately  associated 
and  to  whom  he  was  so  deeply  attached.  Nothing 
could  stay  the  progress  of  the  malady  and  on  the 
seventeenth  of  August,  i860,  came  the  parting 
which  had  so  long  been  dreaded. 

During  this  long  period  of  my  uncle's  illness  all 


Biographical  Memoir  37 

the  care  of  both  families  devolved  on  my  father. 
Never  a  "business  man,"  saddened  by  his  brother's 
condition,  and  utterly  unable  to  manage  at  the 
same  time  a  fairly  large  estate,  the  publication  of 
two  illustrated  works,  every  plate  of  which  he  felt 
he  must  personally-  examine,  the  securing  of  sub- 
scribers and  the  financial  condition  of  everything — 
what  wonder  that  he  rapidly  aged,  what  wonder 
that  the  burden  was  overwhelming!  After  my 
uncle's  death  matters  became  still  more  difficult 
to  handle,  owing  to  the  unsettled  condition  of  the 
southern  states  where  most  of  the  subscribers  to 
Audubon's  books  resided,  and  when  the  open  rup- 
ture came  between  north  and  south,  the  condition 
of  afifairs  can  hardly  be  imagined,  except  by  those 
who  lived  through  similar  bitter  and  painful 
experiences. 

Worn  out  in  body  and  spirit,  overburdened  with 
anxieties,  saddened  by  the  condition  of  his  country, 
it  is  no  matter  of  surprise  that  my  father  could  not 
throw  ofif  a  heavy  cold  which  attacked  him  early 
in  1862.  On  the  evening  of  Tuesday,  February  18, 
he  was  playing  on  his  violin  some  of  the  Scotch  airs 
of  which  he  was  so  fond,  when  suddenly  putting 
down  the  instrument  he  said  he  had  so  much  fever 
he  would  retire.  Before  morning  delirium  set  in, 
and  for  two  days  and  nights  he  wandered  in 
spirit  over  the  many  lands  where  once  in  health 
and  strength  the  happy  boy,  the  joyous  youth,  the 


38  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

earnest  man  had  traveled  in  body.  Especially 
was  the  Californian  trip  present  in  his  fevered 
mind,  and  incidents  and  scenes  were  once  more 
vividly  before  him,  until  on  the  twenty-first  he 
fell  asleep  never  to  awaken  here,  and,  as  the  stormy 
night  closed  in,  almost  at  the  same  hour  as  that  on 
which  his  father  died,  he  too  took  the  last  journey 
and  entered  into  that  unknown  land,  and  was  "for- 
ever free  from  storm  and  stress."  His  forty-nine 
years  of  life  had  been  very  full  ones,  he  had 
touched  the  extremes  of  joy  and  sorrow,  he  had 
known  failure  and  success;  like  his  father  he  had 
never  done  anything  indifferently.  His  enthusi- 
asm carried  him  over  many  difficulties,  his  sympa- 
thy and  generosity  endeared  him  to  every  one  and, 
when  the  end  of  the  busy  life  came,  there  was  left 
a  vacant  place,  never  to  be  filled,  in  the  hearts  of 
those  who  knew  and  loved  him. 

^  MARIA  R.  AUDUBON 

Salem..  New  York,  March  2,  1905. 


AUDUBON'S  WESTERN  JOURNAL 

1 849- 1 850 


CHAPTER  I 

NEW  YORK  TO  TEXAS 

A  YEAR  of  quiet  at  my  happy  home  had  passed  since 
my  return  from  my  last  voyage  to  England,  when 
"the  fever"  as  it  was  called  began  to  rage  in  New 
York,  and  as  I  sat,  convalescent  from  a  fever  of  a 
different  kind  at  the  time,  of  more  danger  than  my 
present  trip,  I  listened  to  the  tales  of  speedily 
accumulated  fortunes.  At  first  I  heard  them  with 
complete  scepticism,  again  with  less,  until  in  some 
degree  faith  in  the  tales  began  to  be  awakened  in 
my  mind,  and  at  last  I  thought  it  might  possibly 
come  to  pass  that  I  should  go  to  California;  but 
still  it  was  very  vague,  and  I  scarcely  dwelt  on  the 
idea  of  so  long  a  trip  except  as  a  dream.  However, 
I  mentioned  it  to  two  or  three  of  my  friends  asking 
what  they  thought,  and  answers  came,  as  is  always 
the  case  on  occasions  when  advice  is  asked,  so 
various,  that  I  was  bewildered,  and  finally  I  felt  I 
must  come  to  those  in  my  own  home  to  aid  me  in  my 
decision.  But  even  here  I  was  thrown  back  upon 
my  own  judgment.  My  noble  father  could  give 
me  no  advice  now,  but  in  1845,  when  I  was  in 
Texas,  he  had  written  to  me:  "Push  on  to  Cali- 
fornia, you  will  find  new  animals  and  birds  at 
every  change  in  the  formation  of  the  country,  and 
birds  from  Central  America  will  delight  you." 


42  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

After  long  talks  over  the  "pros  and  cons,"  I 
concluded  to  go  for  a  long  eighteen  months  from 
my  beloved  home,  and  decided  to  join  "Col.  H.  L. 
Webb's  California  Company"  which  was  being 
organized.  I  was  appointed  second  in  command 
owing  to  my  knowledge  of  backwoodsman's  life 
and  the  experience  of  my  Texas  trip;  and  after 
eight  weeks  of  weariness  and  anxiety  found  I  was  to 
take  charge  of  eighty  men  and,  with  $27,000.00 
belonging  to  the  Company,  was  to  meet  Col.  Webb 
at  Cairo. 

I  had  talked  with  fathers,  and  with  young  men 
who  wished  to  learn  all  about  a  backwoodsman's 
life  in  half  an  hour,  made  purchases  of  arms  and 
implements  and  various  needful  articles,  and 
finally  all  was  ready,  and  the  date  of  departure 
decided  upon. 

Feb.  8th,  184Q.  A  day  of  hurry  began,  and 
three  o'clock  found  us  on  board  the  steamer 
"Transport,"  surrounded  by  the  company  and  a 
crowd  of  their  friends  and  ours  to  see  us  off. 
Fathers  took  my  hands  in  both  theirs,  and  in 
scarcely  audible  voices  begged  me  to  take  care  of 
only  sons,  brothers  asked  me  to  give  counsel  and 
advice  to  younger  brothers,  men  I  had  never  seen 
gave  hearty  hand  clasps  that  told  of  sound  hearts, 
and  said:  "My  brother's  with  you,  treat  him 
right  and  if  he  is  my  brother  he'll  die  for  you,  or 
with  you."     The  final  words  of  clergymen  as  they 


New  York  to  Texas  43 

gave  us  their  parting  advice  and  blessing,  were 
drowned  by  the  tolling  of  the  last  bell.  Its  knell 
went  to  my  heart  like  a  funeral  note,  and  I  was  too 
much  overcome  to  answer  the  cheer  of  the  hundreds 
who  came  down  to  see  us  off,  and  in  silence  waved 
my  cap  to  my  brother  and  friends,  and  in  deep 
mental  sorrow  prayed  God  for  courage  and  ability 
to  do  all  I  had  promised  to  try  to  do. 

My  men  looked  back  to  New  York's  beautiful 
battery,  and  I  paced  the  boiler  deck  almost  alone, 
watching  the  red  sunset  and  cooling  my  burning 
face  and  aching  head  with  the  north-west  wind, 
cold  and  frosty  from  the  snow  covered  palisades, 
turning  often  to  look  up  "our  North  River"  to  see 
if  I  could  get  one  glimpse  of  that  home  so  long  to 
be  unseen. 

The  tide  was  low  so  we  had  to  take  the  outside, 
and  I  went  to  the  bow  to  look  over  Sandy  Hook 
towards  the  broad  Atlantic,  and  to  try  to  realize 
that  the  Pacific  had  to  be  seen  before  I  could 
again  return  to  my  own  beautiful  coast.  It  was  a 
most  curious  sight  as  I  entered  the  cabin  of  the 
boat  to  see  the  different  feelings  exhibited;  some 
were  in  deep  thought;  some  in  sorrowful  anxiety; 
some  gay,  and  again  others  with  evidently  forced 
merriment;  but  in  the  main,  cheerfulness  was 
certainly  on  every  side,  and  when  I  had  to  announce 
that  we  had  been  promised  what  was  not  on  board, 
a  good  supper,  not  a  murmur  was  heard,  and  merri- 


44  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

ment  was  created  by  the  imitations  of  the  orders  of 
the  New  York  eating-houses  such  as:  "roast  beef 
(rare,"  "plum  pudding  both  kinds  of  sauce,"  etc. 

Our  cabins  were  not  the  most  comfortable,  nor 
was  the  floor  of  the  dining  saloon  too  soft  for  some 
of  our  city  men,  but  we  slept  soundly  from  one 
until  four;  took  breakfast  at  five,  and  at  eight  were 
driving  in  the  quiet,  dignified  streets  of  Phila- 
delphia towards  the  Schuylkill.  Very  cold 
weather  had  followed  us,  and  the  heavy  north- 
wester of  the  day  previous  retarded  our  progress 
across  the  Chesapeake  from  Frenchtown.^  At 
Baltimore  we  took  our  luggage  at  once  to  the  rail- 
road station,  and  went  to  the  United  States  and 
Union  Hotels,  where  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter 
each  we  had  supper,  bed  and  breakfast,  and  vv^ent 
off,  all  in  better  spirits,  for  Cumberland,  where, 
after  a  miserable  dinner  and  supper  combined,  we 
packed  into  fourteen  stages,  having  paid  nearly  an 
average  of  two  dollars  each  for  extra  luggage, 
fifty  pounds  being  the  regular  allowance  for  each 
man. 

Feb.  loth.  Fortunately  we  had  a  full  moon, 
and  as  the  mountains  were  all  ice  and  snow  it  was 


*  Frenchtown  was  the  western  terminus  of  the  New  Castle 
and  Frenchtown  Railroad,  one  of  the  first  railroads  built  in  the 
United  States  and  a  part  of  the  early  route  between  the  East 
and  the  West.  With  the  passing  of  the  road,  the  town  entirely 
disappeared.  It  was  located  at  the  head  of  the  Elk  River 
branch  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  below  the  present  site  of  Elkton. 


New  York  to  Texas  45 

"as  light  as  day."  Overloaded,  and  with  top-heavy 
coaches,  as  our  hind  wheels  would  keep  slipping 
first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  to  see  what  the 
front  ones  were  doing,  it  was  most  extraordinary 
we  did  not  capsize,  all  of  us;  but  no  accident 
occurred,  and  at  eight  next  morning  we  had 
descended  Laurel  Hill  on  a  run,  and  were  slowly 
winding  the  lanes  of  a  more  civilized  country. 

As  it  was  Sunday,  many  cheerful  groups,  gaily 
dressed,  ornamented  the  stoops  and  sunny  sides  of 
the  houses  and  barns  of  the  contented  farmers  of 
western  Pennsylvania,  as  we  passed  on  to  Browns- 
ville, where  we  arrived  at  noon,  glad  enough  to 
be  safely  landed  on  the  banks  of  the  Monongahela. 
We  reached  Pittsburgh  at  nine  the  same  evening, 
went  to  the  Monongahela  House  and  had  a  com- 
fortable supper,  but  as  most  of  our  luggage  was  on 
the  steamer  for  Cincinnati,  I  went  on  board  and 
took  my  berth. 

Morning  came,  and  after  a  few  kind  words  from 
my  relations  at  Pittsburgh,  we  left,  and  had  one  of 
the  hundreds  of  monotonous  voyages  down  the 
Ohio  that  are  yearly  performed  by  the  steamers. 
At  Cincinnati  I  was  met  by  two  additional  volun- 
teers, engaged  by  Col.  Webb,  and  was  much 
pleased  by  their  appearance,  though  I  should  have 
preferred  seeing  backwoodsmen  and  men  who 
knew  more  of  the  life  we  were  going  to  lead,  but 
we  must  hope  on,  and  trust  to  Providence. 


46  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Passages  and  fares  at  hotels,  etc.,  included,  were 
now  calculated  to  see  how  we  had  estimated  the 
cost  of  each  person  to  Cairo,  and  we  found  that  for 
each  one  it  was  one  dollar  and  forty-five  cents  over 
the  twenty-five  dollars  allowed,  and  I  took  passages 
to  the  latter  place  direct,  remaining  only  four  hours 
at  Louisville,  where  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  find 
my  uncle  W.  G.  Bakewell  waiting  for  me,  and 
dined  with  him  while  our  boat  was  putting  out 
some  freight  at  Albany,  below  the  falls.  When  I 
joined  my  party  I  was  told  that  some  of  the  men 
had  stolen  a  valuable  pointer  dog,  and  that  a 
telegraphic  notice  had  been  sent  after  them;  but 
on  inquiring  I  found  it  had  been  purchased, 
no  doubt  from  a  thief,  so  we  sent  it  back  from 
Cairo. 

Large  flocks  of  geese  and  ducks  were  seen  by  us 
as  we  made  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  and  the  numbers 
increased  about  Cairo.  The  ice  in  the  Mississippi 
was  running  so  thick  that  the  "J.  Q.  Adams" 
returned  after  a  fruitless  effort  to  ascend  the  river. 
All  Cairo  was  under  water,  the  wharf  boat  we  were 
put  on,  an  old  steamer,  could  only  accommodate 
thirty-five  of  our  party,  so  that  the  other  thirty  had 
to  be  sent  to  another  boat  of  the  same  class;  the 
weather  was  extremely  cold,  with  squalls  of  snow 
from  the  north  with  a  keen  wind,  there  was  no 
plank  from  our  boat  to  the  levee  of  Cairo,  the  only 
part  of  the  city  out  of  water.     Will  it  be  wondered 


New  York  to  Texas  47 

at  that  a  slight  depression  of  spirits  should  for  an 
instant  assail  me?  But  when  a  man  has  said  he 
will  do  a  thing  it  must  be  done  if  life  permits,  and 
in  an  hour  we  found  ourselves  by  a  red  hot  stove, 
the  men  provided  with  good  berths  for  the  place, 
cheerfulness  restored,  and  after  an  hour's  chat, 
while  listening  to  the  ever  increasing  gale  outside, 
we  parted  for  the  night  to  wake  cold,  but  with  good 
appetites  even  for  the  horrible  fare  we  had,  and  as 
young  Kearney  Rodgers  said,  as  we  looked  at  the 
continents  of  cofTfee-stains,  and  islands  of  grease 
here  and  there,  with  lumps  of  tallow  and  peaks  of 
frozen  butter  on  our  once  white  table  cloth,  "Is  it 
not- wonderful  what  hunger  will  bring  us  to?" 

Here  we  found  Col.  Webb  with  his  wife  and 
son;  I  was  much  pleased  with  the  dignified  and 
ladylike  appearance  of  Mrs.  Webb;  once  she  had 
been  very  beautiful,  now  she  was  greatly  worn, 
and  had  a  melancholy  expression,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances more  appropriate  than  any  other,  for 
her  husband  and  only  son  were  about  to  leave  her 
for  certainly  eighteen  months,  and  perhaps  she  was 
parting  with  them  for  the  last  time.  We  chatted 
together  in  rather  a  forced  conversation,  until  the 
"General  Scott"  for  New  Orleans  came  by,  and 
then  went  on  board  paying  eight  dollars  for  each 
man  and  five  dollars  each  for  Col.  Webb's  three 
horses;  so  much  for  Cairo,  I  don't  care  ever  to  see 
it  again. 


48  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

I  found  my  uncle,  W.  G.  Bakewell,  on  board 
making  the  trip  to  New  Orleans,  and  my  journey 
was  as  agreeable  as  it  could  be,  where  all  my 
associations  were  of  a  melancholy  nature.  I 
thought  of  past  joys  and  friends  dead  and  scattered 
since  the  days  when  I  knew  this  country  so  well. 

The  river  was  very  high,  and  the  desolation  of 
the  swamps,  the  lonely  decaying  appearance  of  the 
clay  bluffs,  picturesque  as  they  are,  added  to  the 
eternal  passing  on  of  this  mighty  stream  towards 
its  doom,  to  be  swallowed  in  earth's  great  emblem 
of  eternity,  the  ocean,  told  only  of  the  passing  of 
all  things. 

February  l8th.  Four  days  from  Cairo  found 
us  at  New  Orleans,  and  a  few  hours  enabled  me  to 
find  hotels  for  our  party,  and  at  six  o'clock  I  was 
able  to  tell  Col.  Webb  that  I  had  done  all  I  could 
that  night  and  would  be  with  him  at  nine  next 
morning,  and  left  for  the  quiet  of  my  aunt's^  home. 

February  19th  was  spent  in  running  all  over 
New  Orleans,  ordering  horse  and  mule  shoes, 
bacon,  flour,  bags,  tools,  ammunition,  and  making 
arrangements  to  change  our  certificates  of  deposit 
for  such  funds  as  would  pass  in  Mexico.  I  called 
with  Col.  Webb  on  General  and  Mrs.  Gaines  and 
was  most  kindly  received  by  both,  and  afterwards 
asked  to  call  again,  but  had  no  time,  as  every 
minute  was  occupied  with  my  business. 

1  Mrs.  Alexander  Gordon. —  M.  R.  A. 


I 


New  York  to  Texas  49 

Two  of  our  men  had  to  be  returned  from  this 
place  of  bars,  billiards  and  thirsty  souls,  and  one  of 
our  otherwise  best  men  was  dismissed  because  he 
met  some  of  his  old  "friends"  (?)  who  would 
insist  not  only  on  a  jovial  dinner,  but  masked  balls 
and  all  the  other  concomitants,  and  after  four  days 
of  this,  a  unanimous  vote  of  the  company  expelled 
him. 

Sunday  is  selected  at  New  Orleans  for  the  depar- 
ture of  vessels  to  all  parts  of  the  world  and  at  ten 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  March  the  4th,  we  left 
in  the  steamer  "Globe"  for  Brazos,  north  of  Rio 
Grande.  We  descended  the  river  to  the  mouth, 
but  anchored  there,  as  there  is  a  dangerous  bar, 
and  the  weather  not  looking  favorable  the  Captain 
of  our  frail  vessel  deemed  it  prudent  to  wait  until- 
dawn  before  attempting  to  go  further.  We  left 
our  anchorage  at  daybreak,  the  cross  seas  of  the 
outer  bar  breaking  over  the  bows  at  almost  every 
wave,  and  I  felt  that  if  a  real  gale  came  up  from  the 
south-east  our  trip  to  California  would  soon  end. 
The  day  continued  as  it  had  begun.  I  went  to  my 
berth  and  could  not  have  been  persuaded  that  it 
was  not  blowing  hard  if  I  had  not  been  able  to  see 
the  water  from  my  porthole.  The  night  came  on 
with  a  full  moon  and  the  trade  wind  of  the  Gulf 
just  fanned  a  ripple  on  the  old  swell  to  send 
millions  of  sparkling  lights  in  petty  imitation  of 
those  spangling  the  heavens. 


50  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Three  such  nights  and  four  days  of  hot  sun,  and 
we  were  running  over  the  bar  at  Brazos  in  only 
seven  or  eight  feet  of  water.  Not  a  landmark  more 
than  ten  feet  high  was  in  sight,  but  we  could  see 
miles  and  miles  of  breakers  combing  and  dashing 
on  the  glaring  beach,  broken  here  and  there  by 
dark,  weather-stained  wrecks  of  unfortunate  ves- 
sels that  had  found  their  doom  on  this  desolate 
shore. 

Brazos,  like  Houston  in  1837,  is  nothing  if  you 
take  away  what  belongs  to  government,  a  long  flat 
a  mile  wide,  extending  for  a  good  distance  towards 
the  Rio  Grande,  is  kept  out  of  reach  of  the  sea  by  a 
range  of  low  sand  hills,  if  drifts  of  eight  to  ten 
or  fifteen  feet  deserve  the  name;  so  like  those  on 
all  our  low  shores  from  Long  Island  to  Florida 
that  every  traveller  knows  what  the  island  of 
Brazos  is.  The  inner  bay,  however,  looking 
towards  Point  Isabel  is  beautiful,  and  but  for  the 
extreme  heat  would  have  given  me  a  splendid 
opportunity  for  one  of  my  greatest  pleasures, 
sailing. 

We  found  a  few  cases  of  cholera  had  occurred 
here,  and  Major  Chapman^  with  the  kindness  so 
generally  shown  by  our  officers  to  their  country- 
men, sent  ofif  our  party  at  once  in  the  government 
steamer  "Mentoria."     At  New  Orleans  I  could 


^  William  Warren  Chapman   was  brevetted   major  for  gal- 
lant conduct  in  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista,  and  died  in  1859. 


New  York  to  Texas  5 1 

not  insure  our  money  over  the  bar  of  the  Rio 
Grande  without  an  immense  premium,  so  I,  with 
Biddle  Boggs  and  James  Clement,  having  landed 
the  horses  brought  with  us,  went  overland  from 
Brazos  to  Brownsville  opposite  Matamoras,  thirty- 
two  miles,  long  ones.  We  took  all  our  money 
with  us,  and  started  in  buoyant  spirits.  At  10:30, 
March  8th,  I  found  myself  riding  along  the  beach 
of  this  barren  island ;  for  six  or  eight  miles  we  went 
merrily  on,  watching  the  little  sand-pipers  and 
turn-stones,  and  enjoying  the  invigorating  sea- 
breeze,  as  the  sun  was  intensely  hot,  and  when, 
from  time  to  time  we  passed  through  narrow  lanes 
of  chaparral  where  the  breeze  was  shut  out,  and 
the  dust  followed  our  horses,  we  were  exceedingly 
oppressed. 

We  had  all  seen  Texas  before,  and  like  sailors 
once  familiarized  with  the  sea  whom  an  hour  re- 
stores to  old  habits  and  thoughts,  so  with  the  man  of 
the  prairies,  and  we  all  felt  at  home  at  once.  The 
country  is  flat,  showing  here  and  there  in  the  dis- 
tance some  of  those  bold  prominences  of  clay  repre- 
sented so  beautifully  by  the  Prince  de  Neuwied  in 
his  wonderful  illustrations  of  the  West.^  These 
near  the  Rio  Grande,  are,  of  course,  only  minia- 
tures of  the  "Chateaux  blancs"  of  the  northern 


*  Travels  in  the  Interior  of  North  America^  by  Maximilian,  Prince 
of  Wied-Neuwied  (London,  1843").  Reprinted  in  Thwaites's 
Early  Western  Travels^  1748-1846  (Cleveland,  1905). 


52  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Mississippi.  After  our  long  ride  of  thirty-two 
miles,  with  only  a  hard  boiled  egg  each  for  our 
mid-day  meal,  at  three  o'clock  we  reached  Browns- 
ville where  the  rolling  of  bowling-alleys  and  the 
cannoning  of  billiard  balls  was  all  that  seemed  to 
enliven  the  village  at  that  hour.  I  went  to  find 
the  Quartermaster  to  know  where  to  put  our  money 
for  safety,  and  was  most  kindly  received  by  Major 
Brice^  who  took  charge  of  it  and  put  it  in  the  strong 
box  at  Fort  Brown.  From  this  place  we  had  next 
morning  a  fine  view  of  Matamoras,  and  the  Amer- 
ican-like appearance  rather  startled  me  from  my 
old  belief  of  the  low  standard  of  all  things  Mex- 
ican, for  it  was  the  only  town  like  a  town  I  had 
seen;  but  I  resumed  my  old  opinion  when  I  was 
told  that  all  the  good  houses  had  been  built  by 
Mr.  McGown,  who  had  resided  there  for  years, 
and  so  far  I  have  not  seen  anything  in  the  shape 
of  architecture  worthy  the  name,  except  the  old 
missions  about  San  Antonio  de  Bexar. 

Brownsville,  March  8th.  Almost  a  calm  this 
clear  morning,  but  occasionally  a  soft  breeze,  so 
gentle  as  just  to  wave  the  white  cover  of  the  table 
at  which  I  sat.  From  time  to  time  a  distant  ham- 
mer sluggishly  drove  a  nail,  and  the  proud  cock 
was  heard  to  boast  his  self-importance  in  a  shrill 


1  Major  Benjamin  William  Brice  served  through  the  Civil 
War  in  the  paymaster's  department  and  became  a  major  gen- 
eral at  its  close. 


New  York  to  Texas  53 


crow,  the  same  I  have  heard  from  Berlin  to  this 
lonely  place;  the  mocking-birds  sang  just  as  they 
did  in  my  happiest  days  in  beautiful  Louisiana ;  my 
heart  went  back  to  my  home,  and  a  foreboding  of 
evil  seemed  to  come  over  me. 

Brownsville  is  one  of  those  little  places  like 
thousands  of  others  in  our  Southern  states;  little 
work  and  large  profits  give  an  undue  share  of 
leisure  without  education  or  refinement,  conse- 
quently drinking-houses  and  billiards  with  the  etc. 
are  abundant.  The  river  here  is  narrow  and  rapid, 
and  crossed  by  two  ferry-boats  swung  on  hawsers 
in  the  old-fashioned  way  stretching  from  bank  to 
bank  of  the  great  "Rio  Grande  del  Norte."  They 
do  a  thriving  business,  as  Matamoras  contains 
many  Mexicans  who  do  both  a  wholesale  and 
retail  "running  business,"  that  is,  smuggling. 

March  lOth.  Col.  Webb  and  the  company 
came  up  last  evening  on  the  "Mentoria,"  Captain 
Duffield.  He  stayed  over  night  and  after  pur- 
chasing a  few  barrels  of  rice  at  about  twice  its 
cost  at  New  Orleans,  and  one  or  two  little  additions 
to  our  already  large  stock  of  necessaries,  we  set 
sail  in  the  "Corvette,"  Captain  O'Daniel.  Some 
time  was  lost  in  our  progress  that  night,  as  we 
stuck  on  the  bar  just  above  the  town,  however  we 
soon  went  on,  and  I  found  this  river  quite  different 
from  the  usual  run  of  its  channel,  as  after  every 
rise,  which  is  not  often  at  this  season,  the  channel  is 


54  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

left  full  of  mud,  and  the  deepest  water  for  a  week 
or  so  outside  the  regular  channel. 

I  do  not  believe  any  part  of  this  country  can  be 
good  for  a  thing,  as  the  rain  is  so  uncertain  in  its 
favors.  The  miserable  Mexicans,  who  live  far 
apart,  at  distances  of  ten  or  even  twenty  miles 
from  each  other,  do  not  plant  their  patches  of  corn 
with  any  certainty  that  it  will  mature,  the  rain  fail- 
ing to  come  to  fill  the  ears  more  frequently  than  it 
comes. 

The  ranchos  are  forlorn  "Jacals"  (a  sort  of  open- 
work shed  covered  with  skins  and  rushes  and 
plastered  with  mud,  here  so  full  of  lime  and  marl 
that  it  makes  a  hard  and  lasting  mortar),  precisely 
alike,  varying  only  in  picturesqueness  of  tree  or 
shrub,  or  rather  shrub  alone,  for  there  are  no  fine 
trees  here,  though  the  musquit^  and  willow  some- 
times arrive  at  the  height  of  twenty  or  twenty-five 
feet,  and  back  from  the  river  the  hackberry  attains 
a  tolerable  size. 

A  tall  reed  of  rank  growth  in  thickets,  and  in 
other  places  a  dwarf  willow  in  patches  like  the 
young  cottonwoods  along  the  banks  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, are  the  chief  growth. 

The  water  is  warm,  and  so  full  of  lime  as  to 
create,  rather  than  allay  thirst;  what  but  necessity 


'  The  mesquit  or  mesquite  is  a  tree,  resembling  the  locust, 
of  which  there  are  several  species  in  Mexico  and  the  south- 
western part  of  the  United  States. 


Neiv  York  to  Texas  55 

could  ever  have  induced  settlers  to  remain  here  I 
can  not  tell,  for  the  whole  trip  from  Brownsville 
to  Camp  Ringgold^  does  not  present  one  even 
tolerable  view;  and  the  most  pleasing  sight  to  us 
was  our  own  bright  flag,  one  minute  fluttering  in 
a  southeast  breeze,  then  gently  falling  to  its  rough 
flag-staff,  and  again,  five  minutes  after,  blowing 
furiously  from  the  northwest,  so  changeable  are 
the  winds ;  we  hoisted  our  flag  in  return,  and  came 
to,  just  under  Major  Lamotte's^  tent. 

Col.  Webb  went  in  to  see  him  alone,  to  induce 
'him  to  allow  us  to  go  as  far  as  Roma,  but  it 
appeared  that  Major  Chapman  had  given  orders 
to  the  contrary,  as  our  boat  was  so  large  that  her 
return  would  be  doubtful,  so  we  were  taken  only 
two  miles  further  up  the  river,  and  put  out  on  the 
Mexican  side,  on  a  sandbar,  opposite  Rio  Grande 
City.  It  was  two  o'clock,  the  sun  pouring  down 
on  us,  the  mercury  98  degrees  in  the  shade,  never- 
theless with  all  our  winter  blood  in  us,  we  had  to 
unload  our  heavy  luggage.  Casks  of  government 
tents  and  camp  equipage,  which  we  were  obliged 
to  roll  sixty  or  seventy  yards  through  mud  and 
sand,  was  hard  work.     This  began  to  tell  the  tale. 

^  Camp  Ringgold  was  an  American  military  post  below  Rio 
Grande  City.  Davis's  rancho,  mentioned  later,  was  half  a 
mile  above  Camp  Ringgold. 

2  Joseph  Hatch  La  Motte,  brevetted  a  major  for  gallant 
conduct  at  Monterey,  resigned  from  the  service  in  1846  and 
died  in  1888. 


^6  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

The  good  men  went  at  it  with  a  will,  the  dandies 
looked  at  their  hands,  touched  a  bacon  barrel, 
rubbed  their  palms  together,  looked  again,  and  put 
on  gloves ;  but  it  would  not  do,  and  out  of  our  nine- 
ty-eight men,  only  about  eighty  were  at  their  work 
with  good  will  and  cheerful  hearts,  but  all  was 
soon  done,  and  I  gave  a  sort  of  melancholy  glance 
at  the  "Corvette"  as  she  started  ofif.  The  Captain 
had  been  very  kind  to  us  and  we  gave  him  three 
cheers,  and  turned  to  set  up  our  tents  for  the  first 
time.  We  adhered  closely  to  military  style,  and 
our  straight  line  of  tents  did  not  vary;  dry  sand  or 
wet  mud  had  no  effect  on  our  position.  In  the 
cool  of  the  evening  after  I  had  done  all  I  could  for 
the  comfort  of  those  around  me,  I  stretched  myself 
out,  with  hat,  coat  and  boots  ofif,  to  look  at  the 
busy  scene  around  me.  Gaily  and  cheerfully 
everything  went  on,  under  a  clear  sky  like  that  of 
August  at  home,  with  all  the  soft,  balmy,  summer- 
like feeling.  About  me  were  the  familiar  notes  of 
dozens  of  mocking-birds  and  thrushes.  I  opened 
out  the  nucleus  of  my  collections,  a  little  package 
of  birdskins;  a  new  thrush,  a  beautiful  green  jay,  a 
new  cardinal,  were  side  by  side  with  two  new 
wood-peckers  and  a  little  dove,  all  new  to  our 
fauna,  and  I  carefully  spread  them  out  to  dry,  and 
admired  them.  The  sun  went  down,  our  supper 
was  ready,  and  never  did  a  company  enjoy  their 
meals  more  than  we  did  for  the  first  two  days  we 


New  York  to  Texas  57 

were  ashore,  when  exercise  and  good  health  gave 
a  relish  to  everything.  Our  guard  was  set  and 
detailed  for  the  night,  and  I  turned  in  on  my 
blankets  with  a  short  prayer  for  health  and  contin- 
uance of  blessings  on  my  family. 


CHAPTER  II 

DISASTER  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  RIO  GRANDE 

March  13th,  l84g.  Daylight  came  in  beauti- 
ful and  calm,  but  we  were  enveloped  in  a  dense 
fog,  so  heavy  that  though  the  clear  sky  could  be 
seen  over  head,  not  more  than  fifty  yards  could 
be  distinguished  about  us,  and  the  tents  looked  as 
if  we  had  had  a  heavy  rain  in  the  night. 

Col.  Webb  went  over  to  Camargo  to  report 
himself  and  the  company  to  the  Alcalde  and 
returned  at  night  with  a  Mr.  Nimons,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  they  should  go  next  day  to  China^ 
to  purchase  mules.  Rob  Benson  was  sergeant  of 
the  guard  that  night,  and  I  took  a  few  turns  around 
our  camp  with  him  and  turned  in,  but  about  eleven 
was  called  to  see  J.  Booth  Lambert,  who  was  very 
sick.  Dr.  Trask  began  to  fear  his  illness  might 
be  cholera,  but  it  was  not  in  every  respect  like  what 
he  had  seen  of  that  disease  in  the  north.  At  three 
o'clock,  however,  he  seemed  much  easier  and  more 
composed,  alas,  the  composure  of  cholera.  What 
does  it  foretell?  But  in  this  instance  to  me  "igno- 
rance was  bliss."  At  five  I  was  up  again,  mustard 
plasters,  rubbing  and  a  tablespoonful  of  brandy 
every  half  hour,  with  camphor,  etc.,  were  faithfully 

^  China  is  located  on  the  Rio  San  Juan  about  fifty  miles  from 
the  Rio  Grande. 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  F alley  59 

administered,  but  all  we  knew  and  did  was  without 
avail,  and  at  one  o'clock  he  was  gone.  Poor 
fellow,  he  was  kind  to  his  companions,  cheerful  at 
his  work,  and  twenty-four  hours  previously,  was, 
to  all  appearance,  perfectly  well,  and  playing  a 
game  of  whist  with  his  brother  and  uncle. 

For  the  last  six  or  eight  hours  of  his  illness  all 
the  camp  seemed  to  keep  aloof  from  him,  and  all 
the  tents  on  that  side  of  the  camp  were  deserted 
except  Simson's  and  Harrison's,  and  those  I 
ordered  off.  When  Hinckley,  Liscomb  and 
Walsh  came  back  from  Rio  Grande  City  with  his 
coffin,  I  had  prepared  him  for  burial,  for  his 
brother  was  too  prostrated  with  grief  to  do  any- 
thing. 

At  five  o'clock  fifty  of  us  followed  him  to  the 
grave.  As  we  thought  he  would  have  wished,  and 
knew  his  friends  would  prefer,  we  buried  him  on 
the  American  side,  in  the  grave-yard  back  of 
Davis'  Rancho.  Sadly  we  walked  back  with  a 
feeling  that  this  might  not  be  the  only  case  of  the 
dread  disease. 

No  time,  however,  was  left  for  thought;  as  soon 
as  I  entered  the  camp  Lambert's  messmates  came 
to  beg  me  not  to  put  them  again  in  his  tent.  I 
told  them  I  had  no  idea  of  doing  so,  gave  them  a 
new  tent,  struck  his,  levelled  the  ditches  around  it, 
and  burned  the  withered  boughs  that  had  been  put 
to  shelter  it.     This  done  I  went  to  rest  if  I  could, 


6o  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

being  on  this  night  of  March  15th  more  anxious 
than  I  had  been  for  years.  I  had  just  dropped  into 
a  troubled  sleep,  when  I  was  called  to  look  at 
Boden,  one  of  the  most  athletic,  regular  men  we 
had,  who  complained  of  great  weakness  and 
nausea.  We  had,  of  course,  talked  over  Lambert's 
case,  and  as  men  will  always  try  to  assign  causes 
for  everything,  whether  they  understand  matters 
or  not,  we  had  said  Lambert  was  always  delicate 
and  had  overworked  himself,  but,  here  was  Boden, 
a  most  robust,  well-formed  man,  who  had  not 
exposed  himself  in  any  way  to  illness,  and  so  we 
tried  not  to  fear  for  him,  but  morning,  March 
J 6th,  found  him  too  weak  to  stand,  and  he  showed 
signs  of  all  the  horrors  of  this  dreadful  disease. 
His  broad  forehead  was  marked  with  the  blue  and 
purple  streaks  of  coagulated  blood,  and  down  both 
sides  of  the  nose  and  blackening  his  whole  neck 
the  veins  and  arteries  told  that  it  was  all  over  with 
him.  "What  hurts  you.  Ham?"  I  asked,  as  I  saw 
distress  in  his  face.  "My  wife  and  children  hurt 
me,  Mr.  John,"  was  his  answer,  which  sent  a  thrill 
to  my  heart;  I,  too,  had  wife  and  children.  I  said 
what  I  could  to  console  him,  poor  enough,  doubt- 
less, but  from  my  heart,  God  knows,  and  with  tears 
in  my  eyes,  turned  away  to  go  to  attend  to  Liscomb 
and  Whittlesey,  both  just  taken. 

I   gave   proper  directions   and  at  Dr.  Trask's 
suggestion  went  to  Col.  Webb's  tent  to  tell  him  we 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  6i 

must  strike  tents  and  leave  the  place  at  once.  I 
met  with  a  decided  refusal  at  first,  but  on  my 
repeating  my  request  and  stating  the  facts  for  a 
second  time,  he  consented.  The  company  was 
called  and  told  that  as  previously  arranged  Col. 
Webb  was  going  on  to  China  to  purchase  mules, 
and  that  I  was  in  charge  of  the  camp,  and  would 
at  once  make  arrangements  to  remove  all  the  men 
who  were  well. 

Providence  here  sent  the  steamer  "Tom 
McKenny"  passing  on  her  way  to  Roma.  I  went 
on  board  and  made  the  agreement  that  for  one 
hundred  dollars  all  who  could  go  should  be  taken 
to  Roma,  and  we  at  once  set  to  work  to  pack  and 
hurry  everything  on  board,  retaining  only  what  I 
thought  necessary  for  the  three,  now  dying,  men  I 
had  with  me.  I  called  for  volunteers  who 
responded  instantly,  and  more  than  were  needed, 
to  remain  with  me ;  those  who  were  finally  decided 
upon  for  the  sad  duties  before  us,  were  Robert 
Simson,  Howard  Bakewell,  W.  H.  Harrison, 
Robert  Benson,  Leffert  Benson,  John  Stevens, 
James  Clement,  Nicholas  Walsh,  Talman  and 
FoUen,  with  the  two  Bradys  who  were  friends  of 
Boden,  A.  T.  Shipman,  W.  H.  Liscomb  and  Justin 
Ely. 

As  Dr.  Trask  could  be  of  no  further  use,  we 
insisted  on  his  going  on  board  the  boat,  as  Follen 
was  with  us  and  knows  a  great  deal  about  medicine, 


62  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

though  leaving  home  just  before  taking  his  degree 
as  a  physician,  deprives  him  of  a  title.  All 
arrangements  being  made,  I  only  waited  for  the 
boat  to  come  up,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  had  the 
gratification  of  hearing  her  last  bell,  and  seeing 
her  push  off  from  our  miserable  camp  for  Rio 
Grande  City. 

When  the  order  was  given  to  go  on  board  and 
take  all  the  luggage,  many  started  with  only  their 
saddlebags,  either  in  terror,  or  in  apathy,  from  the 
effect  of  the  air  on  their  systems.  Scarcely  more 
than  twenty  men  were  willing  to  take  provisions 
enough  to  feed  on  for  even  one  day.  David 
Hudson  showed  himself  one  of  the  most  energetic 
and  helpful  and  there  were  some  twenty  others, 
but  I  was  too  anxious  and  too  hurried  in  directing 
and  working  as  well,  to  notice  any  but  the  most 
faithful,  and  the  most  unfaithful. 

I  took  Langdon  Havens  on  board,  never  expect- 
ing to  see  him  again,  he  looked  pale,  yellow,  blue, 
black,  all  colors  at  once,  the  large  blood  vessels  of 
the  neck  swollen  and  black,  showing  how  rapidly 
the  disease  was  gaining  on  him,  and  begged  Trask 
to  do  all  he  could  for  him.  Then  I  came  ashore 
and  saw  the  boat  off,  turned  away  and  stood  for  a 
moment  to  draw  a  long  breath  and  wipe  my 
streaming  face,  the  mercury  was  99  degrees  in  the 
shade.  I  looked  at  the  group  of  good  men  who 
had  reluctantly  left  me  and  had  assembled  in  the 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  63 

stern  of  the  boat  to  bid  me  good-bye;  in  silence 
they  took  off  their  hats,  not  a  sound  was  heard  but 
the  escapement  of  the  steam.  Sorrow  filled  my 
heart  for  the  probable  fate  of  so  fine  a  body  of  men, 
but  it  was  no  time  now  for  reflections,  I  had  three 
dying  men  on  my  hands,  and  the  business  of  the 
camp  to  attend  to. 

I  went  to  the  sick  tents;  poor  young  Liscomb 
worn  out  and  heart  broken  sat  leaning  against  the 
tent  where  his  father  lay  dying,  looking  as  pallid 
and  exhausted  as  the  sick  man,  and  almost  asleep ; 
I  roused  him  and  sent  him  to  my  tent  to  get  some 
rest.  Edward  Whittlesey  was  next,  looking  as  if  he 
had  been  ill  for  months;  his  dog,  a  Newfoundland, 
was  walking  about  him,  licking  his  hands  and  feet 
and  giving  evidence  of  the  greatest  affection;  from 
time  to  time  smelling  his  mouth  for  his  breath, 
but  it  was  gone. 

I  slowly  walked  to  Boden's  tent  but  there  was  no 
change  from  the  stupor  into  which  he  had  fallen; 
and  I  sat  down  to  wait,  for  what?  All  exertions 
had  been  made  to  save  our  brave  men,  and  all  had 
failed.  Like  sailors  with  masts  and  rudder  gone, 
wallowing  in  the  trough  of  a  storm-tossed  ocean, 
we  had  to  await  our  fate,  one  of  us  only  at  a  time 
going  from  tent  to  tent  of  our  dying  companions 
to  note  the  hour  of  their  last  breath. 

I  suddenly  thought  I  would  try  one  more 
resource,  and  I  sent  John  Stevens  to  Dr.  Campbell 


64  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

at  Camp  Ringgold,  requesting  him  to  tell  the 
Doctor,  if  he  did  not  know  who  I  was,  that  we 
were  Americans,  and  demanded  his  assistance.  It 
came,  but  alas,  his  prescriptions  and  remedies  were 
just  those  we  had  been  using,  calomel  as  soon  as 
possible,  mustard  externally,  great  friction,  opium 
for  the  pain,  and  slight  stimulants  of  camphor  and 
brandy.  John  Stevens  had  just  returned,  when 
Howard  Bakewell,  [who]  had  been  his  quarter  of 
an  hour  watching  the  sick,  came  into  my  tent,  where 
I  was  lying  on  my  blankets,  exclaiming,  "My  God, 
boys,  I've  got  it.  Oh,  what  a  cramp  in  my  stomach, 
Oh,  rub  me,  rub  away." 

Simson  and  Harrison  took  him  in  hand,  and  I 
read  and  re-read  Dr.  Campbell's  directions  which 
we  followed  implicitly,  but  all  to  no  purpose;  one 
short  half  hour  found  Howard  insensible  to  pain 
or  sorrow.  He  asked  me  to  tell  his  mother  he 
had  died  in  the  Christian  faith  she  had  taught 
him,  and  his  friends  that  he  had  died  at  his  duty, 
like  a  man.  So  went  one  of  our  days  opposite 
Davis'  rancho,  on  the  never-to-be-forgotten  Rio 
Grande. 

At  four  o'clock,  p.  m.,  two  of  our  small  company 
were  dead,  and  two  were  lying  senseless,  and  I  told 
the  noble  fellows,  who,  forgetting  self,  still  strug- 
gled for  the  company's  good,  that  we  would  stay 
no  longer  in  that  valley  of  death,  but  to  make  every 
preparation  to  leave,  and  so  they  did.     I  was  able 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  65 

to  help  them  but  little,  for  with  what  I  had  under- 
gone the  last  fifty  hours,  and  the  terrible  death  of 
my  young  cousin,  Howard  Bakewell,  I  was  utterly 
exhausted.  Simson,  Clement  and  John  Stevens 
went  with  me  across  the  river  to  the  town,  and  the 
rest  packed  what  was  most  valuable,  and  hired  men 
to  guard  the  camp  that  night. 

I  lay  on  a  bed  in  a  small  house  belonging  to  Mr. 
Phelps,  listening  and  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
bodies  of  Bakewell  and  Liscomb,  who  were 
brought  over  under  the  direction  of  Harrison  and 
Simson,  and  in  a  sort  of  a  dream  I  heard  their 
footsteps,  sprang  from  the  bed,  and  Bakewell  was 
laid  upon  it.  I  waited  for  the  rest  of  the  party 
with  my  saddlebags  containing  the  company's 
money;  that  was  all  of  value  that  I  thought  of,  and 
sometimes  I  wonder  I  thought  of  anything,  I  was 
so  weary.  But  Clement  brought  them  and  Lis- 
comb too,  and  the  latter  was  laid  out  in  the  same 
room  with  poor  Howard.  We  then  all  went  to 
Armstrong's  hotel,  Clement  carrying  my  bags  and 
valuables,  and  arriving  found  two  more  of  our 
party  down  with  cholera.  Dr.  Campbell  came  to 
see  us  and  did  all  in  his  power  for  the  sick,  and 
indeed  for  all  of  us,  and  told  us  it  would  be  unsafe 
for  us  to  keep  our  money  bags,  but  to  give  them 
to  the  bar-keeper  telling  him  their  value,  and 
promising  to  pay  him  well  for  his  trouble  in  caring 
for  them. 


66  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

To  tell  how  that  night  was  passed  would  be 
more  than  I  can  do;  Nicholas  Walsh  and  A.  T. 
Shipman  became  worse;  I  sent  at  once  for  Dr. 
Campbell  and  he  passed  the  night  with  us.  The 
heavy  trade-wind  from  the  south-east  sighed 
through  the  open  windows  of  the  long  twenty- 
bedded  room  we  were  in,  the  deep  moans  of  young 
Liscomb,  who,  dreaming,  saw  nothing  but  the 
horrors  of  his  father's  death,  our  own  sad  thoughts, 
and  the  sickness  of  Walsh  and  Shipman,  and  our 
anxiousness,  and  perhaps  nervousness,  chased  sleep 
away. 

Morning  came,  and  our  friends  had  to  be  buried, 
and  when  this  sad  duty  was  over,  we  asked  for  our 
money,  and  to  our  amazement  were  told  it  was 
gone,  had  been  delivered  to  one  of  our  men.  This 
was  untrue,  and  Ave  sent  at  once  to  the  landlord  and 
demanded  our  money.  He  coldly  answered,  "I 
never  saw  you,  gentlemen,  when  money  is  left  in 
this  house,  it  is  generally  given  to  my  charge,  and 
then  I  am  responsible  for  it."  It  w^as  useless  to 
explain  that  we  had  been  unable  to  see  him  before, 
and,  at  Dr.  Campbell's  suggestion,  we  took  charge 
of  the  man  to  whom  we  had  intrusted  it,  and  sent 
for  the  magistrate  who  took  the  evidence  for  and 
against,  and  committed  the  man  to  trial.  As  there 
was  no  jail,  or  place  of  security  in  which  to  confine 
him,  we  chained  him  to  a  musquit  stump,  and  stood 
guard  over  him  forty-eight  hours,  assistance  from 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  67 

the  garrison  of  Fort  Ringgold  having  been  refused 
us  by  Major  La  Motte. 

March  iSth.  Today  Harrison  died  of  cholera 
after  about  twelve  hours  sickness,  and  I  lost  his 
assistance,  which  had  been  most  valuable,  and  for  a 
time  that  of  Simson,  who  was  well  nigh  crazy  at 
the  death  of  his  friend,  and  who  was  besides  com- 
pletely under  the  influence  of  cholera,  having  been 
in  the  air  of  the  malady  nearly  a  week.  The  next 
day  he  was  up  again,  his  strong  constitution, 
and  still  stronger  mind,  aiding  his  recovery, 
and  again  I  had  his  services,  given  with  his 
whole  heart. 

Today  we  told  White,  the  man  we  held  prisoner, 
that  we  were  so  enraged  that  we  intended  to  hang 
him  that  night,  or  have  the  money  back.  When 
the  sun  was  about  an  hour  high,  he  said  if  we  would 
let  him  go,  he  would  tell  where  he  had  hid  the 
money;  we  promised  that  if  he  recovered  the 
money  he  might  get  away.  At  dusk  we  went  with 
him  to  find  it,  but  his  accomplice  had  been  ahead 
of  him;  never  shall  I  forget  his  tone  of  despair, 
when  on  removing  some  brush  and  briars  by  a 
large  cactus  he  exclaimed,  "My  God,  it's  gone." 
Accustomed  to  the  summary  way  of  judging  and 
executing  delinquents  in  Texas,  he  thought  our 
next  move  would  be  to  hang  him.  He  swore  by 
his  God,  his  Saviour,  and  all  that  men  held  sacred, 
that  that  was  where  he  had  left  the  money,  and 


68  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

prayed  to  be  let  go.  Not  one  of  us  doubted  the 
truth  of  what  he  said  wooc,  but  we  took  him  back, 
and  again  secured  him,  and  that  night  Simson  and 
Horde  arrested  Hughes,  whom  we  thought  to  be 
his  accomplice,  finding  him  in  a  gambling  house 
surrounded  by  his  cronies.  He,  too,  was  secured 
and  ironed,  and  slept  on  the  ground,  waking  up  in 
the  morning  demanding  his  "bitters,"  and  as 
impudent  as  ever. 

This  day,  March  19th,  Mr.  Upshur,  a  gentleman 
acting  as  attorney  and  agent  for  Clay  Davis  at  Rio 
Grande  City,  and  who  had  shown  the  greatest 
sympathy  and  kindness  to  us  in  our  troubles,  and 
exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to  help  us,  called  me 
to  him,  led  the  way  to  his  room,  closed  and  locked 
the  door.  He  then  asked  me  if  I  could  swear  to 
my  money  if  I  saw  it.  I  told  him  I  could  not,  but 
described  it  as  well  as  I  could  remember.  He 
showed  me  three  or  four  thousand  dollars  in  gold 
coin  of  different  nations,  and  asked  me  again  if  I 
could  swear  to  it.  I  could  not,  though  I  fully 
believed  it  was  ours.  He  looked  in  my  face  so 
closely,  that  for  an  instant  I  thought  he  doubted 
who  and  what  I  was;  but  I  met  his  clear  eye,  with 
one  as  honest,  and  slowly  he  drew  a  piece  of  brown 
post-office  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  asked:  "Is 
that  your  handwriting?"  "No,"  was  my  answer, 
"but  it  is  that  of  Mr.  Hewes  of  New  Orleans,  it  is 
his  calculation  of  five  hundred  dollars  in  sover- 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  69 

eigns  and  half  eagles  which  Layton  and  Hewes 
placed  in  my  charge,  and  now  I  can  swear  to  my 
money  if  that  paper  was  with  what  you  have 
showed  me."  He  told  me  he  had  always  been 
satisfied  it  was  mine,  as  he  knew  there  was  not  such 
an  amount  as  I  had  lost,  in  the  settlement.  He 
counted  it  twice,  took  my  receipt,  and  as  we  went 
to  Camp  Ringgold  to  leave  it  with  the  Quarter- 
master, Lieut.  Caldwell,  who  was  always  most 
kind,  Mr.  Upshur  told  me  the  manner  in  which 
this  portion  of  our  money  had  been  regained. 

Don  Francisco,  a  Mexican,  and  father-in-law  of 
Clay  Davis,  was  sheriff  for  the  time,  as  the  cholera 
had  taken  off  the  regular  officer  of  "Star  County." 
Whether  Don  Francisco  was  taking  a  midnight 
walk  to  see  the  fate  of  the  "Californians,"  or 
watching  what  others  might  be  doing  to  them,  we 
could  never  find  out,  but  either  he  had  followed 
White  and  Hughes  until  they  separated,  after 
which  he  could  only  watch  one,  which  he  did  until 
the  thief  had  buried  his  share,  which  the  Don 
promptly  removed;  or  else,  with  the  wonderful 
power  of  trailing  which  Indians  and  Mexicans 
possess,  on  the  fact  of  our  loss  being  made  known 
to  him,  he  may  have  found  and  followed  the  tracks 
of  the  thieves,  and  on  discovering  the  money  think- 
ing this  was  all,  have  given  up  any  further  search, 
until  the  trails  were  obliterated  by  the  footsteps  of 
others.      I    may  add   here,   that   Don   Francisco 


yo  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

generously  refused  any  compensation  for  what  he 
had  recovered,  saying  we  had  suffered  enough. 

The  "Tom  McKinney"  which  had  taken  our 
party  to  Roma  brought  back  eighteen  or  twenty  of 
the  men  on  the  way  back  to  New  Orleans.  At 
first  I  thought  they  had  returned  to  be  of  some 
assistance,  but  judge  of  my  disappointment  when 
I  learned  the  truth.  The  Bensons,  Bradys,  Barclay, 
Tallman,  Follen,  Cowden,  Ely  and  others  were 
determined  to  go  home.  The  Bensons  came  to  me 
and  said  they  were  sorry  to  leave  me,  but  they 
found  they  were  not  fit  for  such  a  journey  as  they 
had  undertaken;  many  of  the  others  went  with  a 
simple  "Good-bye,"  and  some  did  not  even  come 
up  the  hill  to  see  me,  and  among  these  were  some 
of  whom  I  did  not  expect  it,  Walker,  especially, 
for  I  thought  a  good  deal  of  him,  and  had  entrusted 
him  with  the  care  of  the  sick  on  their  way  to  Roma ; 
he  never  sent  me  any  reason  for  not  bidding  me 
good-bye,  but  I  attributed  it  to  the  sudden  news  of 
Harrison's  death. 

Desolate,  indeed,  did  I  feel  as  I  watched  the 
boat  start  on  her  return  trip  taking  some  of  my  very 
best  men,  or  those  I  had  thought  were  such,  and  I 
realized  how  little  one  can  judge  from  appearances 
or  when  all  is  going  smoothly,  I  was  now  left 
with  only  Simson,  Clement,  John  Stevens,  Nic 
Walsh,  Mitchell  and  Elmslie,  with  Shipman  very 
ill.      We    were,    however,    encouraged   by    good 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  71 

reports  of  those  at  Roma,  Langdon  Havens  was 
recovering,  and  out  of  fifty-two  more  or  less  ill, 
only  two  had  died,  though  twenty  were  yet  too 
weak  to  move. 

Horde,  Upshur  and  Simson  were  taking  most 
vigorous  measures  to  recover  our  stolen  money,  and 
we  again  had  Hughes  on  trial.  He  swore  falsely 
again  and  again,  that  he  knew  nothing  of  it.  We 
stood  guard  on  him  until  we  were  compelled  to 
rejoin  our  party,  having  recovered  only  about  three 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  and  lost  all  my 
papers,  receipts,  accounts  up  to  date,  besides 
letters  of  credit  and  introduction.  I  walked  down 
to  Camp  Ringgold  to  see  if  possibly  I  might  have  a 
letter  from  home  by  a  steamer  just  arrived,  and  on 
the  road  met  Lieut.  Browning  on  his  way  to  join 
our  company.  I  introduced  myself  to  him  and 
appointed  an  hour  to  meet  him  at  the  hotel  at 
Davis's  rancho,  and  went  on  to  Major  La  Motte's 
tent  for  letters.  He  was  engaged  when  I  arrived, 
and  too  weary  to  sit  down,  I  stretched  myself  on  the 
rushes  he  had  for  the  floor  of  his  tent  and  com- 
menced a  conversation  with  Captain  McCown,  on 
the  subject  of  our  troubles.  He  did  not  know  me, 
and  began  by:     "The  Audubons  are  well  known 

in  their  profession,  but ."  I  interrupted  him 

by  telling  him  he  was  too  hard  on  me  at  first  sight, 
and  he  was  a  little  confused,  but  his  frank  apology 
soon  put  us  on  a  friendly  footing. 


72  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

On  my  return  to  Davis's  rancho,  I  saw  poor  Dr. 
Kearney  who  had  undertaken  the  medical  charge 
of  the  party;  and  I  heard  of  the  lives  he  had  saved, 
and  hoped  still  to  have  his  aid  for  our  suffering 
company.  But  the  fatigue  he  had  undergone  was 
too  much  for  him,  and  the  day  following  this  he 
was  no  more.  He  was  buried  at  Camp  Ringgold, 
where  he  had  been  cared  for  by  Dr.  Campbell, 
and  nursed  by  his  cousin,  John  K.  Rodgers,  one  of 
my  friends,  who  was  so  debilitated  that  he  was 
obliged  to  return  north. 

Having  done  all  we  could  to  recover  our  money 
we  left  for  Mier,  via  Roma,  at  the  hottest  hour  of 
the  day,  three  o'clock,  hoping  to  arrive  before  dark, 
but  after  two  hours  stopped  for  shade  and  rest,  for 
the  heat,  owing  to  our  debility,  was  insupportable; 
at  dusk  we  went  on  and  reached  Roma  about  eleven 
at  night. 

Roma,  named  after  General  Roman  of  Texan 
celebrity,  is  situated  on  a  sandstone  bluff,  perhaps 
a  hundred  feet  high,  but  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
country  on  this  line,  with  no  trees,  only  an  inter- 
minable chaparral  of  musquit,  cactus  (of  three 
species),  an  occasional  aloe,  maguay^  and  wild 
sage,  at  this  season  covered  with  its  bluish-purple 
flower,  almost  as  delicate  as  the  light  green  of  the 
leaf.       With  the  exception  of  the  large,  coarse 

'  Maguey  is  the  Spanish  name  for  the  century  plant. 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  73 


cactus,  which  ought  to  be  called  "giganteus," 
almost  all  the  plants  are  small  leaved;  worst  of 
all,  every  tree,  shrub  and  plant  is  thorny  to  a  degree 
no  one  can  imagine  until  they  have  tried  a  thicket 
of  "tear-blanket"  or  "cat's  claw."  The  distant 
view  was  exquisitely  soft,  hill  and  valley  stretching 
for  miles  about  us,  looking  like  a  most  beautifully 
cultivated  country,  the  bare  spots  only  like  small 
fields,  and  the  rest  deluding  the  weary  traveller  in 
the  belief  that  the  distance  is  a  change  from  the 
arid,  bleak  country  through  which  he  is  riding. 

We  turned  in  at  a  small  store,  found  a  loaf  of 
bread  and  some  whiskey,  and  lay  down  on  the 
floor  with  our  saddles  for  pillows,  and  blankets 
for  beds,  and  slept  soundly.  At  daylight  I  made 
up  our  party,  saw  them  over  the  river  in  a  small 
flatboat  and  rode  on,  thinking  of  our  situation  and 
wondering  again  and  again  how  I  could  have  been 
so  thoughtless  as  to  entrust  our  money  to  anyone, 
even  with  Dr.  Campbell's  advice,  and  what  course 
to  take  now.  I  could,  of  course,  do  nothing  but 
await  my  interview  with  Col.  Webb,  who  had 
written  to  bring  the  prisoners  along  and  he  would 
get  the  money.  The  difficulty  was  that  by  the 
laws  of  Texas  a  man  can  not  be  taken  out  of  his 
own  county  to  be  tried,  and  it  is  also  against  the 
law  to  lynch  him.  Then,  too,  five  men  could  not 
easily  remove  a  desperado  with  some  twenty  ac- 
complices, through  twenty-five  miles  of  wilderness. 


74  Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 

I  was  so  weak  I  was  but  just  able  to  continue  to 
ride,  and  so  depressed  in  spirits  that  I  was  almost 
in  despair.  We  reached  our  camp  on  the  Alamo 
River,  a  little  creek  three  miles  from  Mier,  and  I 
was  surprised  to  see  a  carriage  as  we  rode  up.  In 
a  minute  I  saw  Col.  Webb  sitting  in  it  with  one 
foot  on  the  back  seat  and  Dr.  Trask  bathing  it.  He 
had  had  a  touch  of  diarrhoea  and  had  hired  a 

carriage  to  ride  down  from  S where  he  had 

received  my  letter  advising  him  of  our  loss,  and 
jumping  out  of  the  conveyance  hastily,  had 
sprained  his  ancle  and  was  in  great  pain,  I  found 
all  in  disorder,  and  the  men  came  flocking  round 
me,  and,  as  I  told  them  our  experiences  since  I  had 
written,  they,  in  return  told  me  of  their  own 
adventures. 

Tonight,  March  21st,  Col.  Webb  was  taken  very 
ill  with  bilious  cholera,  and  we  thought  he  would 
have  died;  we  worked  over  him  until  morning 
when  he  was  better. 

March  22.  Cholera  broke  out  again  this  morn- 
ing, and  I  was  a  sufferer,  but  not  to  die  of  it,  and 
was  lying  twelve  hours  after  my  attack  resting, 
when  I  was  called  to  see  young  Combs  who  had 
just  been  taken  ill.  The  night  before  Mr.  Upshur 
had  sent  for  me,  and  a  small  force,  to  aid  in  a  guard 
he  wanted  over  a  man  he  thought  had  a  portion  of 
our  money,  and,  as  was  my  custom,  I  called  for 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  75 

volunteers  (a  lesson  I  learned  from  Jack  Hayes^ 
when  I  was  in  Texas),  and  Combs  was  one  of  the 
first  to  come  forward.  He  was  so  debilitated  I 
refused  to  let  him  go,  and  it  was  quite  a  task,  tired 
and  ill  as  I  was,  to  convince  him,  it  was  his  strength, 
not  his  spirit  I  doubted.  How  glad  he  was  now, 
that  I  had  not  allowed  him  to  go.  Alas,  he  had  a 
longer  journey  before  him.  At  ten  next  morning 
the  fatal  stupor  came  over  him.  His  friend  J.  J. 
Bloomfield  had  been  like  a  brother  to  him,  untiring 
in  his  devotion,  and  when  in  a  few  hours  Combs 
ceased  to  breathe  Bloomfield  almost  collapsed  him- 
self. Of  the  entire  company  that  started  with  us 
for  California,  at  one  time  numbering  ninety-eight, 
Hudson,  Bloomfield,  Bachman  and  Damon  were 
all  who  were  able  to  help  me  perform  the  last  rites 
for  their  companion. 

After  two  hours  hard  work  we  had  dug  a  grave, 
and  returned  to  camp,  the  soil  was  a  lime-like  one, 
so  hard  that  every  inch  had  to  be  picked.  Our 
whole  camp  was  silent,  as  we  wrapped  Combs  in 
his  blankets;  "not  a  drum  was  heard  nor  a  funeral 
note,"  came  strongly  to  my  mind,  and  about  twenty 
of  the  company  started  to  follow  to  the  grave;  the 
burning  heat  of  the  day  was  past  and  the  sun 
was  just  setting  in  a  sky  without  a  cloud.     All 

^  Col.  John  C.  Hays,  the  Texas  ranger  and  Indian  fighter, 
who  won  a  national  reputation  at  the  siege  of  Monterey.  He 
went  to  California  in  1849,  became  first  sherifFof  San  Francisco 
and  afterward   United  States  surveyor-general  for  California. 


76  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

moisture  seemed  to  have  left  the  face  of  nature, 
the  distant  prairies,  broken  only  here  and  there  by 
a  musquit,  gave  a  wild  desolation  to  the  scene, 
and  as  we  fell  into  line  without  an  order  being 
given,  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  more  forlorn, 
haggard  set  of  men.  Sadly  indeed,  did  we  bear 
our  late  companion  to  his  last  home,  and  when  we 
reached  the  grave  only  eleven  men  had  had 
strength  to  follow.  We  lowered  the  body  with 
our  lariats  and  I  read  the  funeral  service.  As  I 
said,  "Let  us  pray,"  all  kneeled,  and  when  I  added 
a  short  but  heartfelt  prayer  for  courage,  energy 
and  a  return  of  health  to  our  ill-fated  company, 
not  a  dry  eye  was  amongst  us;  not  one  man  but 
felt  our  position  one  of  solemnity  seldom,  if  ever, 
experienced  before  by  any  of  us.  We  returned  to 
our  desolate  camp  to  look  on  others  still  in  danger 
and  needing  consolation,  even  if  we  could  not  give 
relief.  So  ended  our  last  day  on  the  banks  of  the 
Alamo,  and  we  retired  to  our  tents  to  think  on  who 
might  be  the  next  to  go,  all  ideas  of  business  being 
for  the  time  driven  from  our  minds;  even  those 
not  ill,  seemed  almost  apathetic. 

March  23d.  Again  came  morning  with  its 
fieiy  sun  burning  and  drying  everything.  Break- 
fast was  tasted,  but  not  eaten.  A  committee  from 
the  company  came  to  know  what  should  be  done. 
Col.  Webb  with  one  of  our  doctors  and  four  men 
went  off  to  Mier,  to  get  out  of  the  sun,  for  with  all 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  77 

his  boast  of,  "I  live  as  my  men  live,"  he  said  he 
"should  die  in  that  sun."  I  was  obliged  to  go 
back  to  Rio  Grande  City  about  our  money,  so  I  told 
the  men  that  we  had  better  wait  and  see  what 
further  money  we  could  recover  and  how  our 
health  was  likely  to  be.  All  acquiesced,  and  with 
Clement  and  Simson  I  left  for  Roma  on  my  way 
to  Rio  Grande,  where  I  recovered  four  thousand 
dollars  more  of  our  money;  I  still  hoped  to  regain 
the  balance,  about  seven  thousand  dollars,  but  it 
was  never  found. 

To  tell  of  the  dull  monotony  of  this  place  would 
be  most  tedious,  nearly  as  hard  to  think  of  as  to 
endure.  I  found  the  officers  of  the  camp  my  most 
sympathetic  companions.  Captain  McCown,  Dr. 
Campbell,  Lieuts.  Caldwell,  Hazzard  and  Hayne, 
and  Captain  Deas. 

Four  days  of  fruitless  examinations  passed,  and 
one  night  I  had  made  my  blankets  into  a  bed,  and 
was  trying  to  find  a  soft  position  for  my  weak  and 
bony  legs,  when  Clement  came  to  tell  me  I  was 
wanted  in  Judge  Stakes's  room;  with  Lieut. 
Browning  I  went  over.  At  a  circular  table 
covered  with  books  and  papers,  lighted  by  a  single 
candle,  sat  Clay  Davis,  his  fine  half-Roman,  half- 
Grecian  head  resting  on  his  small,  well  shaped 
hand,  his  position  that  which  gave  us  the  full 
beauty  first  of  his  profile,  then  of  full  face;  his 
long  black  hair  with  a  soft  wave  in  it  gave  wildness 


yS  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

and  his  black  moustache  added  to  a  slight  sneer  as 
he  looked  at  a  Mexican  thief  standing  before  him; 
he  was  altogether  one  of  the  most  striking  figures  I 
have  ever  seen.  Opposite  was  Judge  Stakes,  also 
a  very  handsome  man,  as  fair  in  hair  and  com- 
plexion as  Clay  Davis  was  dark.  Behind  him 
stood  Simson  with  his  Vandyke  head  and  peaked 
beard;  he  was  in  deep  shadow,  with  arms  folded, 
and  head  a  little  bowed,  but  his  searching  eyes 
fixed  keenly  on  the  prisoner. 

One  step  in  advance  stood  Don  Francisco  putting 
question  after  question  to  the  thief,  a  little  further 
ofTf  stood  three  other  rascals,  their  muscular  arms 
tied,  waiting  "adjudication." 

On  the  other  side,  in  the  light,  sat  another  Mex- 
ican holding  the  stolen  property  which  had  been 
recovered;  and  behind  him  a  table  with  glasses, 
bottles  and  a  demijohn.  Lieut.  Browning  and  I 
sat  on  a  cot  bed  covered  with  a  Mexican  blanket, 
watching  the  whole  scene,  denials,  confessions, 
accusations,  threats,  and  one  after  another  piece  by 
piece  was  produced  of  our  propert>\  All  the 
clothes  were  recovered,  amid  questions  and  oaths  in 
Spanish  and  English,  until  we  abandoned  all  hope 
of  regaining  anything  more. 

With  Lieut.  Browning  I  left  to  return  to  Mier, 
but  half-way  between  Davis's  rancho  and  Roma 
met  the  company  in  wagons  which  they  had  hired. 
All  were  well,  but  so  weary  and  debilitated  they 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Valley  79 

had  decided  to  go  home.  I  continued  on  my  way 
to  see  Col.  Webb  and  get  his  ideas  on  the  course 
to  be  pursued.  I  received  his  orders  and  left  at 
two  o'clock  that  night  with  his  son,  Mitchell,  and 
Lieut.  Browning;  regained  the  company,  called 
the  men  together,  read  their  agreement  to  them, 
and  said  all  I  could  to  remind  them  of  the  obliga- 
tions they  were  under  to  go  on  and  fulfil  their 
contract,  but  almost  universal  refusal  met  my 
appeal.  Only  twenty-one  agreed  to  go  on;  what 
a  falling  off  from  ninety-eight!  Out  of  those  who 
agreed  to  go  on  two  were  cooks,  two  teamsters, 
two  servants,  and  some  few  who  said  they  did  not 
care  for  the  company,  they  only  wanted  to  go  to 
California.  Can  it  be  wondered  at  that  I  doubted 
such  men?  I  left  them  all  to  reconsider  their 
position,  and  went  off  to  think  over  my  own 
troubles,  and  make  up  my  mind  how  to  act.  In 
half  an  hour  I  returned  and  told  the  men  my 
determination.  "I  have  thought  of  my  position 
in  the  company,  I  have  done  all  I  could  in  the 
interests  of  the  company,  but  now  I  am  going  home. 
I  am  not  old  enough  to  preach  to  you,  but  should 
you  go  home,  let  contentment  and  gratitude  for 
what  you  have  be  gained  by  the  hardships  and 
sorrows  you  have  endured,  and  may  God  bless 
those  who  go  on,  and  those  who  return."  So  ended 
^'Col.  Webb's  California  Co." 

Fortune,    always    fickle,    now    changed.       No 


8o  Audubon's  IV  est  em  Journal 

steamer  came  to  take  us  back;  for  two  days  we 
were  quite  determined  to  take  the  voyage  home- 
wards, but  with  returning  health  the  men  began 
to  feel  encouraged,  and  I  thought  perhaps  I  ought 
to  make  another  effort  to  go  on.  I  consulted  all  I 
could  on  the  subject,  and  of  course  had  varying 
opinions.  Captain  McCown  said:  "Go  back,  no 
one  can  do  anything  with  volunteers,  you  have  no 
power  to  compel  obedience;  now  you  go  back 
honorably,  and  you  don't  know  what  you  will  have 
to  endure  on  a  march  through  Mexico."  Lieut. 
Caldwell  urged  me  to  go  on,  said  "it  was  military 
education  never  to  give  up,  so  long  as  there  was 
any  possibility  of  the  original  idea  being  carried 
out." 

Slowly  I  walked  along  thinking.  I  had  not  found 
the  men  disobedient,  and  I  believed  the  cholera 
was  the  chief  cause  of  discouragement,  and  the  fact 
that  Col.  Webb  had  left  the  men  in  their  distress 
the  source  of  the  anger  against  him.  I  decided 
that  I  could  go  on,  and  determined  to  make  one 
more  eflfort.  That  evening  while  sitting  under  an 
ebony  tree,  about  eight  o'clock,  in  the  darkness 
which  follows  so  rapidly  on  the  short  southern 
twilight,  I  heard  a  song  from  one  of  our  company, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  a  chorus,  good  spirits  seem  to 
have  returned,  and  leaving  my  seat  I  went  over  to 
Armstrong's  Hotel. 

On    the    counter   of    the    bar-room    lay    Lieut. 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  Fa/ley 


Browning;  two  or  three  persons  were  seated  at  his 
feet,  and  on  stools  around  the  room  lounged,  or  sat, 
our  little  band,  our  saddles,  blankets,  etc.,  filling  a 
corner  of  the  room.  General  Porter  was  there 
listening  to  the  close  of  a  chorus.  One  of  the  party 
pushed  a  saddle  over  for  me  to  sit  on,  and  I  began 
my  little  address:  "How  strange  it  is  that  the 
thought  of  home  should,  in  one  short  day,  so  change 
your  spirits;  who  would  have  thought  that  fifty 
such  men  would  be  turned  back  by  the  first  diffi- 
culties? What  will  you  say  to  your  friends? 
Forget  your  homes  for  a  time  and  go  on  like  men." 
But  the  old  answer  came,  "We  won't  go  on  under 
the  present  management,"  and  "We  won't  go  on 
with  Col.  Webb."  I  told  them  it  was  not  possible 
for  them  to  go  on  with  Col.  Webb,  as  an  hour  before 
I  had  received  a  communication  from  him  saying 
his  health  would  not  permit  him  to  go  on  with  us, 
and  appointing  a  time  to  have  a  business  interview 
with  him  before  he  left  on  his  return  home.  A 
silence  followed  this  announcement,  and  then 
Lieut.  Browning  said  "Let's  go  on  with  Mr.  Audu- 
bon." Three  cheers  gave  their  answer,  but  I  told 
the  men  not  to  decide  then  in  a  moment  of  excite- 
ment, to  wait  until  morning  and  make  up  their 
minds  in  cool  blood,  as  I  wanted  no  more  change, 
and  this  would  be  their  last  resolve.  At  ten  next 
morning  we  met,  and  all  but  six  agreed  to  go  on, 
and  we  at  once  moved  to  a  camping  ground  five 


82  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

miles  back  from  the  Rio  Grande,  out  of  the  way 
of  cholera,  to  feed  up  our  weak,  and  make  our 
arrangements  to  leave.  I  at  once  ordered  from 
Alexander  sixty  mules,  thirty  to  be  first-class  saddle 
mules,  and  thirty  good,  average  pack  mules. 

It  took  nearly  a  month  to  make  all  our  prepara- 
tions, wind  up  our  business  with  Col.  Webb  and 
others,  and  to  put  our  sick  men  in  good  travelling 
condition.  When  we  had  removed  our  provisions 
from  Camp  Ringgold,  where  we  had  stored  them, 
our  heaviest  work  was  done,  and  we  started  for 
Mier,  but  found  we  had  not  mules  enough  and 

stopped  at to  get  more,  and  here  we  also 

repaired  the  miserable  wagons  that  had  been 
bought  at  Cincinnati,  arranging  our  guard  and 
other  matters.  Henry  Mallory  and  I  counted  our 
money,  and  allowed  a  hundred  days  as  the  time 
requisite  for  our  journey,  and  our  financial  calcu- 
lations gave  sixty-six  dollars  and  four  cents  for 
each  man. 

How  the  responsibility  of  taking  forty-eight 
men,  most  of  them  wholly  ignorant  of  the  life 
before  us,  through  so  strange  and  wild  a  country, 
weighed  upon  me,  I  cannot  express,  but  we  were 
too  busy  to  have  much  time  to  think,  and  moved 
on  twenty  miles  to  Mier.  Luckily  our  wagons 
broke  down  again,  so  we  concluded  to  leave  them, 
and  lost  another  week  disposing  of  them,  and  sel- 
ling goods  we  were  unable  to  take.      At  Mier  I  saw 


Disaster  in  Rio  Grande  F alley  83 

Col.  Webb  off,  with  his  proportion  of  money  and 
provisions. 

Mier  is  like  every  other  Mexican  town  I  have 
seen,  it  is  composed  of  one  square  only,  and  all  the 
rest  suburbs,  the  houses  built  of  adobe.  To  the 
southwest,  hills,  parched  and  arid,  give  an  unpleas- 
ing  foreground  of  the  superb  view  of  the  mountains 
of  Cerralvo,  all  the  blue  of  Italy  was  again  before 
me,  with  the  exception  of  the  blues  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea. 

Two  more  of  our  company  returned  to  us  here, 
one  of  whom,  Ulysses  Doubleday,  was  so  weak  and 
reduced  that  I  left  him  in  charge  of  his  friends 
Bachman  and  Elmslie,  and  gave  him  what  money 
he  needed  to  carry  him  home.  I  certainly  thought 
him  a  dying  man,  but  it  was  otherwise  ordained, 
and  he  reached  his  friends  safely  and  well.  Bach- 
man and  Elmslie  were  true  to  me  throughout  all. 


CHAPTER  III 

MEXICO  FROM  THE  RIO  GRANDE  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS 

April  28th,  l84g.  The  company  started  today, 
and  I  expect  to  follow  early  tomorrow,  and  join 
the  men  who  are  now  fifteen  miles  ahead  of  me. 
I  am  compelled  to  remain  to  attend  to  the  property 
of  the  ten  men  who  have  died  of  cholera  in  this 
accursed  place;  it  goes  to  New  Orleans  by  boat  in 
the  morning.  Why  Col.  Webb,  who  had  been  in 
this  country  before,  selected  this  route  instead  of 
a  more  northerly  one,  I  cannot  understand,  but  it 
is  now  too  late  to  change,  and  we  must  go  forward 
with  courage. 

April  2Qth.  Canales  Run.  We  are  all  on  our 
way,  having  come  to  Ceralvo,  [Cerralvo]^  beauti- 
ful for  its  old  mission,  and  curious  in  its  irrigating 
canals,  bridges  and  old  church,  still  it  has  the 
apathetic  lassitude  of  everything  Mexican.  We 
rode   on    to    Robbers    Rancho,    over    undulating 

1  The  route  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  the  Rio  Florida  is 
described  in  Wislizenus's  "Tour  to  Northern  Mexico," 
Washington,  1848  (Senate  misc.  doc.  26,  ist  session,  30th 
Congress)  and  in  Bartlett's  Personal  Narrative  of  Explorations 
and  Incidents  in  Texas.,  Nezu  Mexico.,  California.,  Soiora  and 
Chihuahua  (New  York,  1854).  Wislizenus  was  physician 
in  Doniphan's  expedition,  and  Bartlett  was  United  States 
Mexican  Boundary  Commissioner.  The  Mexican  Atlas  of 
Garcia  y  Cubas  (Mexico  City,  1859)  furnishes  maps  that  are 
nearly  contemporary  and  a  list  of  haciendas. 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  85 

wastes  of  hard,  unprofitable  soil.  The  palmettos 
are  here  by  the  thousand,  and  their  fantastic  shapes 
gave  the  appearance  of  horsemen  of  gigantic  size, 
riding  through  grass  almost  as  tall. 

May  1st.  Robber's  Rancho,  once  a  fine 
hacienda,  was  burned  by  the  Americans,  in  the 
last  war,  for  the  rascality  of  its  owners;  it  is  on 
a  beautiful  plain,  but  brush  has  grown  up  in  the 
now  neglected  fields,  and  all  is  in  ruins.  Here 
we  came  near  losing  Lieut.  Browning  from 
cholera,  but  he  was  saved  by  Dr.  Trask's  indefat- 
igable exertions. 

May  I2th.  Near  Monterey.  We  have  been 
here  four  days  having  horses  and  mules  shod,  and 
I  will  take  my  pencil  notes  and  write  up  my  journal 
to  date. 

We  were  at  Robber's  Rancho  a  week,  waiting 
for  Bachman,  Elmslie  and  Carrol,  who  had  been 
left  with  Doubleday.  As  soon  as  they  rejoined 
us  we  moved  on  to  Papogias  [Popagallos]  then 
to  Ramos  where  we  met  some  French  traders  with 
a  long  train  of  mules  and  their  "cargoes." 

Ramos  was  followed  by  Marin  and  Aquafrio; 
all  present  a  dilapidated  appearance,  very  differ- 
ent from  what  was  seen  when  the  country  was 
under  the  fine  system  of  irrigation,  and  the  remains 
of  past  opulence  everywhere  sadden  the  traveller. 

We  reached  Walnut  Springs,  five  miles  from 
Monterey,   on  the  8th  of  May,   and  are  taking 


86  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

needed  rest  in  the  shade  of  the  Spanish  walnuts, 
and  enjoying  the  delightful  water,  which  bursts 
out  in  a  fountain  of  six  to  eight  feet  wide,  and 
about  a  foot  deep,  clear  but  not  cool,  yet  pleasant 
to  drink.  Monterey  is  at  the  base  of  a  range  of 
mountains,  which  surround  it  on  all  sides  except 
to  the  north.  Its  entrance  over  bridges,  many 
of  them  very  picturesque,  shows  abundance  of 
water,  which  irrigates  the  beautiful  valley  for 
miles  beyond  Molino. 

Where  did  I  hope  to  be  at  this  date?  Yet  here 
we  are  scarcely  started;  one  month  lost  in  sickness 
and  sorrow,  and  one  in  the  re-organization  of  our 
company.  We  are  full  two  months  behind  our 
reckoning,  and  on  a  route  of  which  I  never 
approved,  but  which,  when  I  took  command,  we 
were  already  compelled  to  pursue.  We  are  hav- 
ing the  horses  and  mules  shod,  for  their  feet  are 
so  tender  we  can  not  continue  without.  We  travel, 
usually  twenty  or  t^venty-five  miles  a  day,  as  the 
chance  for  water  and  forage  for  our  horses  occurs. 
The  uncertainty  of  provisions  is  such  that  we  have 
to  carry  corn  for  one  or  two  feeds  ahead,  which 
adds  considerably  to  the  weight  of  our  packs,  and 
gives  us  a  good  deal  of  trouble. 

As  I  sit  here,  I  hear  the  notes  of  many  new 
birds,  as  well  as  those  well  known,  and  the  sky 
overhead  is  bluer  than  any  Italy  ever  presented  to 
me.     Monterey,  where  I  have  been  several  times, 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  87 


is  an  improvement  on  the  other  Mexican  towns 
we  visited,  but  full  of  foreigners  of  all  nations 
come  to  prey  on  the  ignorance  of  the  poor  inhab- 
itants. All  now  seems  well  regulated,  but  I  dread 
shortness  of  provisions  and  we  have  to  be  very 
careful.  I  have  not  heard  from  home  since  the 
date  of  February  19th  and  now  must  wait,  I  fear, 
until  we  reach,  if  we  ever  do  reach,  the  Pacific 
coast. 

The  company  are  all  tired,  the  work  is  new  and 
it  takes  time  to  become  accustomed  to  the  broken 
night's  rest.  At  midnight  I  take  the  rounds  of 
our  camp  in  moonlight,  starlight  or  darkness,  to 
see  that  all  is  well,  and  that  none  relax  in  vigilance, 
so  requisite  to  safety  in  this  country  of  thieves. 
This  gives  me  only  six  hours  of  sleep,  for  after  we 
have  had  supper,  it  is  eight  o'clock,  and  we  get 
up  at  four  a.  m.,  so  that  taking  out  the  two  hours 
nightly,  reduces  me  to  that  amount,  but  "habit 
is  second  nature."  If  you  hear  of  any  more  men 
coming  to  California  overland,  tell  them  three 
shirts,  six  pairs  of  socks,  one  coat,  one  great  coat, 
two  pairs  of  trousers  and  two  pairs  of  boots,  should 
be  all  the  personal  luggage.  No  man  should  bring 
more  than  he  can  carry. 

I  have  had  quite  a  scene  with  the  Alcalde  here. 
Our  camp  was  infested  with  pigs,  which  came 
from  every  direction  every  morning  and  evening 
when  we  fed  our  horses  and  mules.     Of  course, 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


we  could  not  see  them  robbed,  stones  and  hatchets 
were  abundant,  and  some  pistols  went  off,  which 
the  boys  declared  did  so  accidentally.  We  could 
not  find  the  owners,  so  I  went  to  [the]  Alcalde  to 
pay  for  them,  taking  an  Italian  boy  as  interpreter. 
The  boy  instead  of  saying  what  I  told  him,  which 
was  simply  to  ask  the  value  and  pay  it,  added  on 
his  own  account,  that  if  his  Honor  was  not  satisfied 
with  what  we  gave,  we  would  come  in  and  take 
the  town.  Naturally  the  Alcalde  resented  this, 
and  I  found  my  little  vagabond  had  been  telling 
his  own  story,  not  mine.  Upon  matters  being 
explained  by  a  more  trustworthy  source,  the 
Alcalde  was  perfectly  content,  and  bowed  me  out 
with  much  courtesy. 

The  adroitness  of  the  Mexicans  in  thieving 
equals  that  of  the  rascals  at  Naples.  In  two 
instances  pistols  have  been  taken  from  the  holsters 
whilst  the  owners  held  the  bridles  of  their  horses. 
All  this  has  tended  to  excite  revenge,  and  without 
good  discipline  outbreaks  of  temper  might  have 
occurred,  which  would  undoubtedly  have  brought 
us  into  trouble,  as  happened  with  several  other 
companies  on  the  road  to  Mazatlan. 

Saltillo,  May  20th.  Here  we  are,  thank  God, 
fairly  on  our  way,  and  at  present  in  good  health 
and  spirits.  We  travel  about  nventy-five  miles  a 
day,  but  have  great  difficulty  in  keeping  our 
horses  and  mules  in  good  order,  as  there  is  no  grass 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  89 

for  grazing  purposes,  and  corn  varying  in  quality, 
but  always  high  in  price,  from  one  dollar  to  fifty 
cents  per  bushel. 

When  we  left  Monterey  we  followed  the  road  to 
Rinconada,  which  is  a  beautifully  located  rancho, 
well  watered  and  with  a  long  avenue  of  pollard 
poplars  or  cotton-woods;  the  boles  not  more  than 
ten  or  fifteen  feet  high,  so  that  the  flawy  gusts  that 
are  like  little  hurricanes  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
which  come  from  the  mountainswhich  surround  the 
place  in  every  direction,  cannot  blow  them  down. 
Here  we  saw  the  first  magna  plants,  from  the  juice 
of  which  pulke  [pulque]  is  made,  and  afterwards 
muscale  [mescal]  distilled.  Muscale  in  taste  is 
more  like  creosote  and  water,  slightly  sw'eetened, 
than  anything  I  can  compare  it  to,  and  I  suppose 
it  is  about  as  wholesome. 

The  peons  who  do  the  work  of  the  hacienda  are 
completely  Indian  in  character,  appearance  and 
habits,  sometimes  marvelous  in  their  strength  and 
activity,  and  sometimes  surprising  us  with  their 
unsurpassed  laziness.  The  women,  patient  things, 
like  all  squaws,  carry  wood,  water,  and  do  all  the 
household  labor. 

From  this  beautiful  little  amphitheatre  among 
the  hills  we  wound  along  parched  arroyos  and 
valleys,  and  I  could  not  but  be  struck  with  the  wise 
provision  of  nature  for  the  protection  of  its  crea- 
tions.    Almost  all  the  trees  have  tap  roots,  or  if 


90  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

fibrous,  they  run  so  deep  in  search  of  moisture, 
that  they  are  often  longer  than  the  tree  is  high. 
In  the  arroyos  where  the  earth  was  often  washed 
from  the  roots,  I  had  a  good  opportunity  of  con- 
firming my  conclusions.  We  proceeded  up  a  deep 
ravine,  until  we  began  the  ascent  of  the  famed 
pass  of  Rinconada,  intended  to  be  defended  by 
Santa  Anna,  but  abandoned  when  our  troops 
approached.  How  any  force  of  artillery  could 
have  deserted  such  a  position  I  can  not  conceive, 
for  the  unfinished  fort  commands  the  road  for  two 
miles  at  least. 

The  view  from  the  Fort  was  most  superb,  but  we. 
were  tired  of  mountains,  and  longed  for  shade  and 
woods.  Crossing  this  pass  we  had  our  first  indica- 
tion of  increasing  altitude,  and  above  us  on  the 
rocks  were  pines  and  cedars.  They  had  the 
showers  we  longed  for  and  saw  passing,  while 
almost  smothered  in  dust,  our  hair  and  whiskers 
white  with  it,  and  we  looked  like  a  troop  of  grey 
veterans. 

We  approached  Saltillo  over  a  broad  plain, 
dotted  with  ranchos  for  some  miles  before  we 
reached  the  town,  which  we  entered  through  lanes 
of  adobe  walls,  and  finally  came  to  the  principal 
street,  and  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  town  proper  stands.  It  is  all  Mexican 
in  its  character,  one  story  houses,  flat  roofed  and 
(having  a  fortified  look,  as  if  no  one  trusted  his 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  91 


neighbor.  The  public  square  is  a  fine  one,  and 
the  cathedral  front  the  most  beautiful  I  have  seen 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  The  workmen  who 
did  the  carving  came  from  Spain,  and  the  stone 
from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  so  goes  the  story. 
Saltillo  has  many  good  points,  it  is  clean,  well 
regulated,  and  [has]  better  buildings  than  any  I 
have  seen  except  at  Monterey,  yet  we  pushed  on, 
and  have  made  our  camp  at  Buena  Vista,  six  miles 
further  on.  High  mountains  bound  our  view  on 
every  side.  Buena  Vista  had  its  battle,  and  few 
of  us  but  have  some  friend  or  acquaintance  sleep- 
ing there. 

Parras,  May  28th.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
Buena  Vista  Camp,  the  night  of  the  23d  and  24th, 
it  was  the  night  previous  to  our  departure  for  this 
place ;  the  guard  was  slow  in  coming  out,  Montrose 
Graham  was  guard  over  my  tent  that  watch,  and 
as  Simson  called  his  guard  to  order,  and  faced  me, 
where  I  had  risen  up  to  see  who  were  changing, 
George  Weed  let  his  rifle  fall.  The  cock  was 
down  on  the  nipple,  contrary  to  a  positive  order; 
in  falling,  the  head  of  the  hammer  struck  the 
ground  first,  and,  as  if  the  trigger  had  been  pulled, 
it  went  off.  An  exclamation  came  from  either 
side,  one  "Mr.  Audubon's  killed,"  the  other  from 
me :  "Who's  hurt?"  A  groan  from  poor  Graham 
was  the  answer.  We  were  all  hurry  for  lights 
and  water,  and  the  Doctor.     All  loved  Graham, 


92  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

he  was  the  handsome  man  of  the  original  party  of 
ninety-eight,  just  twenty-two,  and  the  Captain  of 
his  tent,  "The  Hailstorm  Mess,"  so  called  by  Lieut. 
Browning,  from  its  go-ahead  principles. 

The  ball  had  passed  through  his  ancle,  and 
both  Drs.  Perry  and  Trasic  said  he  could  not  go 
on  for  some  weeks.  So  it  was  decided  to  leave  his 
cousin,  Molinear,  with  him,  a  more  practical 
physician  than  most  of  his  age,  and  as  much  money 
as  we  could  spare,  that  they  could  follow  us  or 
return  home,  as  seemed  most  judicious. 

Frank  Carrol,  as  good  a  man  as  I  ever  wish 
on  such  an  expedition,  found  accommodations  for 
Graham,  and  remained  with  him  at  Saltillo.  How 
we  parted  from  them  only  those  can  know  who 
have  been  compelled  to  leave  friends  in  a  strange 
land. 

For  several  days  our  road  continued  over  long 
hills,  and  parched  valleys,  and  on  the  last  day  of 
this  travel  we  had  a  most  extraordinary  view.  We 
had  climbed  a  hill,  not  more  than  three  hundred 
feet  high,  but  very  steep,  and  reached  a  broad  plain 
five  or  six  miles  wide,  but  much  longer.  On  every 
side  was  a  chain  of  sterile  volcanic  mountains;  it 
was,  for  one  view,  most  wonderful;  it  looked  as  if 
an  immense  lake,  that  threatened  to  cover  the 
mountains,  had  suddenly  been  changed  to  earth. 
Crossing  this  plain  and  rounding  one  of  the 
desolate  peaks,  we  came  to  the  hacienda  of  Don 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  93 

Emanuel  Hivarez,  who  has  five  hundred  peons  at 
work.  The  water  used  for  irrigation,  without 
which  nothing  could  be  grown,  is  brought  in  an 
adobe  aqueduct  for  several  miles.  It  is  an  old 
settlement  and  very  dirty,  abounding  in  fleas  and 
vermin  of  all  descriptions.  Yet  when  one  comes 
to  a  hacienda  with  water  'all  round,  brought  from 
some  mountain  stream,  the  contrast  between  the 
desolate  land  we  have  travelled  and  the  exuberant 
luxuriance  of  vines,  figs  and  magna  gives  a  beauty 
which  almost  makes  me,  with  my  hatred  of  every- 
thing Mexican,  admire  our  surroundings.  Mock- 
ing-birds are  all  around  us,  and  could  I  linger  to 
explore,  I  have  no  doubt  I  could  have  added  many 
new  birds  to  my  list,  but  with  cholera  hanging 
round,  breaking  out,  in  a  mild  form  it  is  true,  at 
every  place  we  stop  at,  we  must  push  on. 

We  daily  pass  cacti  of  three  species,  as  well  as 
miles  of  aloes,  yet  not  enough  nourishment  to  feed 
a  horse  in  the  whole  of  them,  and  through  this 
country  we  start  tomorrow  for  Chihuahua.  We 
have  one  hundred  and  fifty-seven  mules  and  horses 
and  fifty-seven  men,  and  are  in  good  spirits.  We 
hear  Chihuahua  is  our  best  route,  but  we  may 
have  different  information  at  Parral  and  go 
through  Sonora. 

May  2Qth.  Parras  is  like  all  Mexican  towns 
I  have  seen,  a  few  French  and  Americans,  some 
with  a  Mexican  wife,  others  with  a  housekeeper; 


94  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

but  all  indolent,  keeping  little  stores  and  ware- 
houses and  making  immense  profits.  It  is  cele- 
brated for  wines  and  brandy,  made  principally  by 
foreigners. 

May  30th.  At  three  o'clock  this  morning  I 
was  taken  with  sharp  pains,  nausea  and  other 
symptoms  of  cholera,  and  for  the  first  time  was 
obliged  to  ride  in  the  ambulance,  but  towards 
evening  was  able  to  be  up  again,  though  very  much 
debilitated. 

June  2d.  We  left  Parras  at  five  this  morning, 
and  at  dusk  reached  El  Paso  [El  Pozo],  and 
camped  on  a  gravelly  hill.  For  miles  a  barren 
desert  lined  both  sides  of  our  road,  until  we  came 
to  a  swamp  tract,  with  extraordinary  luxuriance  of 
rank  weeds,  no  grass,  and  passing  this  entered  a 
dismal  thicket  of  chaparral. 

June  3d,  Sunday.  We  left  El  Paso  at  eight  this 
morning,  and  rode  until  ten,  when  we  reached  a 
deserted  rancho,  and  with  some  trouble  encamped 
near  a  river  bed  with  waterholes  along  it.  A 
beautiful  lagoon  with  water  holes  a  hundred  yards 
long  enabled  us  all  to  take  refreshing  baths,  and 
I  watched  with  pleasure  the  languid  flight  of  the 
great  blue  heron,  changing  his  position  as  he  was 
approached.  Two  Mexicans,  hunting  cattle,  came 
to  us  here,  and  Lieut.  Browning  bought  a  wild 
mule,  for  which  he  gave  a  few  dollars  and  a  broken 
down  mule. 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  95 

June  2d.  [?]  Again  we  have  been  through 
swamp-like  country,  crossed  the  dry  bed  of  a  river, 
with  white  sand  glaring  painfully  in  our  faces,  and 
found  acres  of  wild  sunflowers,  and  patches  of  what 
looked  like  horehound,  then  we  came  to  a  cotton- 
wood  bottom,  gradually  changing  to  a  golden 
willow,  which  grew  so  luxuriantly  on  both  sides  of 
the  road  that  I  was  reminded  of  the  rich  bottom 
lands  of  Ohio. 

At  noon  we  came  to  Alamito,  a  large  rancho,  or 
small  village  of  scoundrels.  In  bargaining  for 
water,  which  is  only  to  be  had  from  wells,  we  found 
the  men  who  had  it  for  sale  were  making  their 
own  terms  with  our  rascally  guide,  and  Simson 
stepped  up  and  began  talking  to  them.  They  pre- 
tended they  could  not  understand,  but  on  my  tap- 
ping my  revolver  they  instantly  became  most 
intelligent. 

Here  wt  had  the  first  attempt  at  a  "stampede" 
made  upon  us.  Those  intending  to  run  off  the 
"cabalgada"^  of  a  travelling  party,  take  a  strong 
horse,  cover  him  with  the  skin  of  an  ox  which  has 
been  newly  killed,  putting  the  fleshy  side  out,  tie 
all  the  bells  they  have  to  the  horse,  and  fastening 
an  enormous  bunch  of  dry  brush  to  his  tail,  set  fire 
to  it,  and  start  him  off  with  yells  and  shouts  through 


1  Cahalgada  is  properly  a  troop  of  mounted  men  or  cavalcade. 
The  word  is  here  applied  to  the  animals  upon  which  the  men 
are  mounted. 


96  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

the  camp  of  those  to  be  stampeded.  Horses  and 
mules,  keen  of  scent  and  hearing,  receive  warnings 
of  danger  through  both  faculties,  and  are  so 
frightened  they  will  break  any  ordinary  fastening. 
No  matter  which  way  they  go,  the  vagabonds  are 
such  beautiful  riders  they  soon  turn  the  herd  to 
any  course  they  like,  and  make  their  escape,  for 
those  robbed  have  nothing  to  follow  on;  for,  even 
if  a  few  animals  are  left,  the  speed  of  the  thieves 
can  never  be  equalled.  In  this  instance  our  vigi- 
lant guard  saved  us ;  what  would  have  become  of 
us  if  they  had  not,  I  dare  not  think. 

June  yth,  Mapimi.  After  a  ride  of  twenty 
leagues  we  reached  this  place  last  night  just  before 
twelve,  and  lay  down  without  food  for  either  our- 
selves or  our  horses,  and  the  poor  animals  had  only 
had  water  once  that  day.  The  journey  had  been 
well  enough.  From  time  to  time  we  enjoyed  a 
pleasant  shade  through  a  larger  growth  of  mus- 
quits  than  common,  and  again  the  country  was  bare 
of  all  vegetation.  Tired  though  we  were,  our 
sleep  was  poor,  for  we  were  in  a  sort  of  barnyard 
full  of  hogs,  and  surrounded  by  thieving  Mexicans. 

This  is  a  mining  town  and  has  several  smelting 
furnaces  where  charcoal  is  used.  Lead,  and 
about  an  ounce  of  silver  to  every  hundred  pounds 
of  ore,  is  produced,  so  the  silver  pays  for  the 
smelting,  and  in  some  of  the  mines  copper  is  found. 
The  furnaces  externally  are  picturesque,  not  high, 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  97 

but  with  eccentric  peaks,  mitre-shaped,  and  har- 
monizing well  with  the  rugged  mountains  which 
surround  this  dirty  little  town,  where  idleness  and 
dirt,  dogs  and  fleas  abound. 

June  gth.  We  rested  a  day  at  Mapimi,  and 
reached  La  Cadena  this  evening,  having  come  nine 
leagues;  we  shall  stay  here  tomorrow  to  have  the 
tires  of  our  wagon  set  and  to  rest.  This  rancho  has 
a  fortified  appearance,  and  mounts  one  small 
cannon,  it  looks  able  to  resist  a  heavy  attack  from 
the  Indians. 

The  road  to  this  place  is  almost  level  for  twenty 
miles,  when,  entering  a  gorge  with  abundant  grass, 
it  winds  up  a  gradual  ascent  for  two  or  three  miles, 
and  to  the  west  we  had  a  grand  view,  in  the  middle 
of  which  stood  the  hacienda.  A  long  front  of 
white  wall,  a  tower  at  each  end,  with  the  usual 
archway  in  the  center,  over  which  was  mounted 
a  small  brass  piece,  made  the  whole  show  of  the 
establishment;  and  though  formidable  to  the 
Apaches,  who  are  about  here  in  numbers,  to  us 
was  only  picturesque.  Today  w^e  lost  two  of  our 
best  horses  with  cholera;  the  poor  beasts  suffering 
so  much  in  the  manner  that  men  do,  that  it  was 
painful  to  have  our  own  troubles  brought  back  so 
forcibly  to  our  minds. 

June  lOth.  We  left  for  Pantilla  at  eight  last 
night;  it  was  eleven  leagues  distant;  and  being  a 
deserted  rancho  no  food  could  be  had  there,  so  we 


98  Audubon's  IVestern  Journal 

intended  watering  at  the  place,  taking  a  short  rest, 
then  going  seven  leagues  farther  to  La  Zarca.  Two 
hours  after  we  started  the  moon  rose  behind  us,  and 
truly  we  presented  a  most  picturesque  appearance. 
Some  in  coats,  some  in  blankets  Mexican  fashion, 
others  in  shooting  jackets;  we  grew  very  tired  and 
longed  for  sleep,  but  it  was  not  to  be  taken  except 
on  horseback.  Morning  came  and  we  stopped  for 
an  hour  to  graze  our  horses  and  mules,  and  rode 
past  the  deserted  rancho  without  stopping  to  water, 
and  came  on  to  La  Zarca,  having  had  our  poor 
animals  under  the  saddle  for  twenty  hours,  during 
which  we  made  sixty-four  miles,  ourselves  only 
having  to  eat  what  we  had  expected  for  one  meal. 
As  we  came  up  the  mountains  that  overlooked  this 
plain,  we  saw  the  first  antelopes,  and  I  was  at  one 
time  within  two  hundred  yards  of  three,  but  I  did 
not  shoot,  and  was  never  so  near  again.  Many 
black-tailed  hare  have  been  seen  and  shot,  and  their 
variety  of  pelage  would  make  twenty  species. 

June  1 2th.  Today,  Sunday,  we  are  resting  men 
and  animals,  and  tranquillity  is  all  about  us.  These 
long  journeys  are  very  injurious  to  our  horses;  one 
such  long  trip  leaves  them  much  more  jaded  and 
impoverished  than  two  shorter  ones,  even  though, 
as  now,  we  always  take  a  day's  rest. 

La  Zarca  is  beautiful  to  look  at,  the  centre  of 
attraction  being  a  fine  clump  of  cotton-woods, 
letting    the   white    walls    of    the    hacienda    shine 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  99 

through  them.  We  bought  a  beef,  killed  it,  and 
our  meal  was  speedily  cooked  and  eaten.  Looking 
day  after  day  on  the  same  desolate  scene,  rendered 
so  only  by  the  want  of  rain,  rarely  camped  in 
shade,  this  journey  becomes  wearisome  beyond 
belief. 

The  broad  plain  on  which  this  rancho  is  situated 
once  grazed  six  thousand  head  of  horse,  all  owned 
by  one  person,  but  when  the  Spanish  government 
was  given  up  for  no  government,  which  is  the  case 
now,  Indians  and  Mexicans  supplied  themselves 
with  stolen  horses  in  abundance. 

June  IJth.  From  La  Zarca  to  Cerro  Gordo  the 
country  is  flat  and  uninteresting,  barren  in  most 
places  of  all  but  musquit  bushes.  Every  mile  or 
so  for  the  first  few  leagues  we  crossed  a  beautiful 
little  brook,  which  was,  however,  gradually 
absorbed  by  the  thirsty  sand,  a  water  hole  and  bed 
of  sand  appearing  alternately,  until  the  water 
wholly  disappeared.  We  made  two  days'  journey 
of  it,  going  the  first  day  eighteen  miles,  where  we 
found  good  grazing  on  partially  dry  grass,  better 
for  horses  and  mules  than  corn  alone,  which  half 
the  time  has  been  all  we  could  get  for  them.  Our 
most  serious  trouble  now  is  the  sore  backs  of  our 
mules  produced  by  the  pack  saddles,  which  were 
made  in  our  own  country,  and  are  too  broad  for 
the  backs  of  the  Mexican  mules.  Cerro  Gordo  is 
a  miserable  den  of  vagabonds,  with  nothing  to 


lOO  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

support  it  but  its  petty  garrison  of  a  hundred  and 
fifty  cavalry  mounted  on  mules.  We  were  hooted 
and  shouted  at  as  we  passed  through,  and  called 
"Gringoes,"  etc.,  but  that  did  not  prevent  us  from 
enjoying  their  delicious  spring  water;  it  was  cool 
and  delightful.  Our  men  rushed  to  it,  and  drank 
two  pint  cups  full  each,  hardly  breathing  between 
times;  it  was  the  first  good  water  we  had  had  since 
leaving  the  Mississippi. 

Here  we  were  visited  by  a  member  of  a  Mexican 
travelling  circus,  who  asked  our  protection  as  far 
as  El  Valle,  which  we  promised  them.  The  party 
consisted  of  five,  one  woman  and  four  men.  The 
lady  rode  as  we  used  to  say  in  Louisiana  "leg  of  a 
side,"  on  a  small  pacing  pony;  the  two  horses  of 
the  ring  carried  only  their  saddles,  two  pack  mules, 
four  small  trunks,  and  four  jaded  horses  the  rest 
of  the  plunder.  The  four  men  went  one  on  foot, 
driving  the  packs  and  continually  refitting  and 
repacking,  the  other  three  riding.  One  man  had 
two  Chihuahua  dogs  about  six  inches  long,  stuffed 
in  his  shirt  bosom,  another  a  size  larger  on  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle.  A  second  man  was  in 
grand  Spanish  costume,  on  a  small  but  blooded 
grey  horse,  with  a  large  dragoon  sword  on  his  left, 
and  a  Mexican  musket  made  about  1700,  which 
would  have  added  to  an  antiquary's  armory.  They 
told  us  they  had  everything  they  owned  with  them, 
so  that  if  alone,  and  attacked  by  the  Apaches,  whom 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  loi 

we  hear  of  continually  but  never  see,  their  loss 
would  be  a  very  serious  one  to  them. 

June  14th.  We  left  Cerro  Gordo  at  eight  a.  m. 
and  ascended  steadily  up  hill  for  about  two  miles, 
the  country  poor  and  uninteresting,  and  the  miles 
seem  to  stretch  out  interminably.  We  are  now 
camped  at  El  Noria. 

June  ISth.  Rio  Florida.  We  are  repaid  for 
our  tiresome  journey  by  the  shade  and  refreshment 
we  find  here;  the  old  mission  is  the  most  commo- 
dious we  have  seen,  built  of  nearly  white  marble, 
the  four  pillars  next  the  church  richly  carved  and 
almost  perfect.  When  the  old  priests  had  this 
broad  valley  tilled  and  irrigated  by  the  convert 
Indians  it  must  indeed  have  been  a  scene  of  luxu- 
rious growth,  and  they,  no  doubt,  lived  in  great 
comfort,  if  isolation.  Still  the  place  is  inland,  and 
indolence  there  as  everywhere  in  Mexico  reigns 
supreme.     So  fell  Rio  Florida. 

June  17th.  From  Rio  Florida  to  El  Valle,  ten 
leagues,  our  road  in  places  has  been  most  beautiful ; 
undulating  plains  like  those  of  Texas,  and  we  saw 
the  first  streaks  of  iron  mixed  with  the  limestone 
which  for  weeks  we  have  been  traveling  through. 
We  shall  be  glad  of  any  change,  for  our  lips  are 
cracked,  and-so  sore  as  to  give  pain  and  discomfort 
all  the  time,  while  our  hands  are  cracked  and  split 
as  in  mid-winter. 

Here  at  El  Valle,  sometimes  called  Bia  Valle, 


I02  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

we  are  encamped  in  a  grove  of  cotton-wood,  which, 
I  should  say,  had  been  planted  forty  or  fifty  years 
ago,  and  the  gardens  when  irrigated  must  have 
been  most  luxuriant.  We  are  now  in  an  iron 
district,  and  the  walls  of  the  Jacals  have  changed 
from  white  to  red.  The  hillsides,  too,  have 
changed  in  color;  some  are  reddish  and  bare, 
others  grey,  from  dead  grass  and  lime  underneath. 

Bia  or  El  Valle  is  situated  on  another  of  those 
beautiful  creeks  that  from  time  to  time  occur  in  this 
part  of  Mexico;  it  contains  a  motley  crowd,  doubt- 
ful of  face  and  of  character;  largely  half-breeds, 
and  speaking  Spanish,  so  murdered  into  patois, 
that  Lieut.  Browning,  a  fluent  Spanish  scholar, 
was  some  time  learning  to  understand  their 
language.  Our  circus  party  left  us  here;  the 
woman  who  was  really  the  queen  of  the  show  came 
to  thank  us  for  our  protection,  which  she  did  most 
gracefully,  and  gave  us  a  courteous  invitation  to 
her  show  and  fandango,  the  termination  to  every 
Mexican  entertainment,  wedding,  christening,  and 
even  battle.  I  could  not  go,  but  several  of  the 
party  did,  and  pronounced  the  senoritas  quite  good 
looking. 

June  l8th,  Parral}  Half  way  between  El  Valle 
and  Parral,  at  a  rancho  on  one  of  the  bends  of  the 
Rio    Florida,    is    a    most   splendid    specimen    of 


^  Hidalgo  del  Parral,  marked  upon  the  maps  both  as  Hidalgo 
and  as  Parral,  but  more  commonly  the  latter. 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains  103 


meteoric  iron,  almost  pure  in  quality.  It  is,  at  its 
highest  point,  four  feet  above  the  ground,  and 
from  two  to  five  feet  one  way,  by  two  to  three  the 
other,  very  irregular.  Where  it  is  worn  by  the 
passers  by  rubbing  their  hands  it  is  bright,  and 
looks  like  a  lump  of  pure  ore. 

A  long,  steep  zigzag  descent,  rocky  beyond 
belief,  and  painful  to  our  poor  mules,  many  of 
which  had  lost  shoes,  brought  us  into  Parral,  which 
is  wild  and  picturesque  in  situation  as  well  as  in 
buildings,  but  yet  desolate. 

The  balconies,  so  to  speak,  built  in  front  of  the 
silver  mines,  high  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains 
which  entirely  surround  the  town,  give  it  a  fortified 
appearance,  and  convey  the  idea  of  a  respectability 
which  we  have  not  seen  since  we  left  Saltillo.  We 
skirted  the  town,  and  are  encamped  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  or  creek  that  runs  through  the  centre; 
our  tents  were  soon  in  place  and  guard  set,  for  we 
were  immediately  surrounded  by  at  least  a  hun- 
dred idlers.  While  talking  to  some  Americans, 
Lieut.  Browning  had  his  pistol  stolen  from  his 
holster,  while  standing  within  three  feet  of  his 
mule.  This  makes  the  fifth  lost  in  this  way.  He 
drew  his  revolver  and  ordered  the  crowd  off,  and 
in  an  instant  the  ground  was  clear,  and  the  fear  that 
characterizes  these  miserable  creatures  was  shown 
as  they  hurried  off,  holding  their  hats  to  shield  the 
back  of  their  heads. 


I04 


Auduboti's  Western  Journal 


We  are,  comparatively  speaking,  camped  in  a 
paradise,  for  we  have  pollarded  cotton-woods  to 
give  us  shade,  a  dashing  little  brook,  and  an  aviary 
of  birds  to  enliven  or  calm,  to  cheer  and  encourage 
us,  and  are  in  real  enjoyment  of  rest  from  fatigue 
and  pain,  all  but  my  thigh,  which  is  very  painful 
from  the  presence  of  a  large  boil. 

June  20th.  Parral.  So  far  our  prospects  ahead 
are  good,  and  we  have  determined  not  to  take  the 
Chihuahua  route,  but  the  mountain  one  from  this 
to  Jesus  Maria,  and  so  on,  as  we  are  informed  from 
the  best  authorities  that  we  can  go  that  way  without 
suffering  from  want  of  water  or  food,  and  arrive  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Gila,  not  three  hundred  miles 
upstream.  We  are  told  of  both  routes  by  those 
who  have  personally  travelled  them,  and  learn 
that  by  taking  to  the  mountains  we  shall  be  in  pine 
forests,  and  that  deer  and  bear  are  frequently 
found,  so  that  we  shall  be  able  to  have  some 
variety  from  the  monotonous  fare  of  no  meat  or 
only  tough  beef,  which  we  have  had  for  three 
months. 

All  would  have  been  well  had  we  not  encoun- 
tered cholera,  and  lost  that  never-to-be-caught-up- 
with  time  at  Davis's  rancho;  and  no  party  would 
have  beaten  us  over.  We  have  passed  the 
Comanche  country,  and  now  have  to  be  on  our 
guard  against  the  Apaches.  No  one  knows  how 
constantly  I  miss  my  dear  friend  Dr.  Kearney  in 


Mexico  to  the  Mountains 


times  like  these,  especially  when  a  deviation  from 
our  contemplated  route  is  in  question. 

The  country  we  have  passed  through  is  desolate 
in  the  extreme,  parched,  arid,  barren,  except 
where  irrigated. 

Parral  is  a  mining  town  where  silver  is  found, 
but  there  is  no  proper  machinery  for  satisfactory 
work.  There  are  about  seven  thousand  inhabitants 
of  the  usual  mixed  variety. 

June  2Jth,  l84g.  Here  at  Parral  we  have 
found  some  Americans,  and,  as  ever,  friends 
among  them;  Mr.  Hicks  and  Mr.  Miller  in 
particular;  but  here  unfortunately  Hinckley, 
Liscomb  and  Teller  were  taken  ill,  and  our 
departure  was  delayed.  Teller  was  very  ill  from 
the  first  with  a  sort  of  cholera.  We  took  him  into 
the  town  for  better  accommodation  and  rest,  but 
he  sank  rapidly;  we  were  unable  to  save  him,  and 
could  only  alleviate  his  sufferings.  His  cousin 
and  myself  watched  over  him  with  heavy  hearts, 
and  depression  again  settled  heavily  on  our  camp. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ACROSS  THE  MEXICAN  MOUNTAINS  TO  ALTAR 

June  28th.  Left  Parral  at  noon,  leaving  Carroll, 
E.  A.  Lambert,  J.  S.  Lambert,  J.  Black,  Penny- 
packer  and  Joseph  Lambert  to  follow  after  burying 
poor  Teller.  Before  this  we  had  sold  our  Jersey 
wagon  for  $275.00  and  I  refused  $250.00  for  two 
mules,  as  I  did  not  dare  to  start  short  handed  in 
animals,  their  lives  here  are  so  uncertain.  Our 
start  was  late,  not  only  owing  to  the  loss  of  our 
companion,  but  because  the  night  previous  we  had 
a  severe  storm  with  thunder  and  lightning,  which 
had  drenched  tents,  blankets  and  men;  many  of 
the  men  were  stif¥  and  cold,  and  we  had  to  dry  the 
tents  and  blankets  to  save  weight  on  our  mules, 
but  when  we  did  start,  we  wound  along  a  glen  that 
led  to  our  first  view  of  the  spurs  of  the  eastern 
chain  of  the  Rocky  mountains,  and  exclamations 
of  delight  burst  forth  from  all. 

We  rode  until  six  this  evening,  twenty  miles, 
when  another  terrific  storm  coming  on,  we  camped 
on  a  grassy  fiat,  among  musquit  and  scrub  oaks, 
with  good  feeding  for  horses,  but  bad  water.  It 
rained  too  hard  to  make  a  fire,  so  we  dined  on 
bread  and  Parral  cheese,  not  bad  I  assure  you. 
Each  man  was  served  with  a  tin  cup  of  brandy 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  107 

and  water.  The  question  was  brought  up  as  to 
whether  or  not  brandy  was  essential,  except  in  real 
illness.  As  we  sat  in  the  dim  light  of  our  lantern, 
drenched  and  cold,  we  decided  in  the  affirmative, 
and  if  our  friends  could  have  seen  us,  they  would, 
I  think,  have  sanctioned  the  vote. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  turned  myself  and  my  guard 
out,  and  Henry  Mallory  and  his  twelve  men  were 
my  relief;  the  guard  being  unusually  large,  thieves 
here  being  so  numerous  that  guards  must  be 
close  enough  to  see  each  other,  even  on  a  dark 
night. 

June  2gth.  We  passed  through  patches  of 
beautiful  scarlet  lilies,  that  sometimes  were  an  acre 
in  extent,  gorgeous  and  splendid,  and  contrasting 
with  an  equally  abundant  blue-flowering  plant 
like  larkspur,  but  alas,  I  am  no  botanist.  We  here 
came  to  the  first  great  ascent  we  had  made  for 
some  time.  Had  we  not  been  told  that  La  Zarca 
was  the  highest  point  in  central  Mexico,  we  should 
have  thought  ourselves  a  thousand  feet  higher 
than  at  any  previous  time  on  our  trip.  Up  we 
went  through  scrub,  post  and  live-oaks  filled  with 
mistletoe,  and  a  most  beautiful  laurel,  with  the 
stems  and  branches  bright  cinnamon  orange.  At 
last  we  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  came 
to  a  jutting  point  giving  a  view  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cent mountain  pass  that  can  be  imagined.  Our 
men  gave  a  shout  for  mere  exultation,  and  I  par- 


lo8  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

took  of  their  buoyant  spirits,  and  cried  out:  "Three 
cheers  for  these  glorious  hills,"  and  such  cheers!! 
Echo  after  echo  responded,  and  we  gazed  then  in 
silence  at  the  superb  cliffs,  volcanic,  basaltic,  and 
sandstone,  all  discolored  with  the  iron  prominent 
on  the  surface,  and  below  us  the  beauties  of  a  little 
torrent  that  dashed  on  to  the  west  as  fast  as  I  could 
have  wished  to  go. 

Our  course  was  downward  now,  and  as  we 
descended  the  forest  grew  taller;  laurel,  pine,  oak, 
a  wild  cherry,  a  cedar,  new  to  me,  two  feet  six 
inches  in  diameter,  with  balls  and  foliage  like  arbor 
vitae,  and  bark  furrowed  like  an  ash,  ornamented 
the  beautiful  gorge ;  besides  there  were  the  common 
cedar  and  many  splendid  walnut  trees.  To  de- 
scribe the  road  would  be  rather  difficult;  it  was  just 
passable,  that  is  to  say  could  be  passed;  in  many 
places  not  easy  work  for  our  packs.  Most  of  us 
led  our  horses,  either  to  save  them  or  ourselves,  for 
a  stumble  might  send  us  two  or  three  hundred  feet 
down,  and  was  not  to  be  risked. 

Just  as  we  reached  the  valley  Maybury  was 
taken  ill  with  what  resembled  cholera,  and  could 
not  ride  on  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  so  Dr.  Trask, 
Simson,  Mallory  and  Pennpacker  remained 
behind  with  him.  The  rest  of  us  went  on  for  ten 
miles,  and  encamped  on  a  beautiful,  rolling  prairie 
under  some  post  and  narrow-leaved  swamp  oaks. 
It  rained  most  violently  as  usual,  as  it  has  done 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  109 

every  evening  since  we  entered  the  mountains. 
Fortunately,  before  it  began  Maybury  and  the  men 
left  to  care  for  him  reached  camp. 

June  30th.  A  fine  morning.  As  we  had  no 
fresh  meat  we  took  a  little  bacon,  our  never  failing 
standby,  and  going  on  came  to  Huajatita,  and 
camped  two  miles  beyond.  Here  we  bought  a  six- 
months-old  calf  for  five  dollars,  and  abundance  of 
corn  for  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per  cargo  (six 
bushels) .  I  am  so  enchanted  with  the  wild  beauty 
all  about  us,  that  I  could  almost  stay  months  to 
enjoy  it.  It  is  all  new  to  me ;  the  hills  and  moun- 
tains are  different  in  shape  from  any  I  have  seen; 
the  plants,  trees,  rock,  all  strange,  and  as  we  take 
our  horses  to  the  beautiful  creek  to  drink,  curious 
fish  come  to  look  at  their  noses. 

July  1st.  Again  our  road  was  up  hill,  and  most 
dangerous,  so  most  of  us  walked,  but  with  all  our 
care  nearly  lost  two  mules,  by  mis-steps.  The 
narrow  passes  are  so  worn  by  the  trains  of  pack 
mules,  that,  to  insure  safe  footing,  each  mule  puts 
his  foot  in  the  same  worn  hole  that  other  mules 
have  trod,  for,  perhaps,  fifty  years  previously.  Two 
of  our  train  failing  to  do  this  rolled  over  four  or 
five  times,  and  how  they  ever  recovered  their 
footing  is  a  mystery;  a  horse  under  similar  condi- 
tions would  have  gone  to  the  bottom. 

To  us,  so  long  suffering  from  drought  and  bad 
water,  the  showers  that  come  daily  in  the  afternoon 


no  Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 

about  three  o'clock,  and  the  little  streams  we  cross, 
are  most  enchanting.  The  ride  today  was  very 
interesting. 

July  2d.  We  are  leaving  the  mountains  and  I 
dread  the  plains  again,  they  are  so  monotonous. 
We  found  some  wild  grapes,  and,  to  us^  the  most 
matured  were  not  sour.  Liscomb  was  taken  ill 
today  with  dysentery,  and  we  feared  wx  should  lose 
him.  Tone  put  him  on  his  horse,  the  easiest  we 
had,  and  Carroll  was  most  kind  to  him;  we  were 
compelled  to  go  on,  but  we  gave  him  short  rests 
as  frequently  as  we  could. 

Gradually  the  plain  narrowed,  and  as  we  neared 
the  ridge  of  mountains  which  bounds  one  side  of 
the  valley  of  Santa  Cruz,  we  passed  the  ruins  of  a 
once  beautiful  Mission.  It  was  a  low,  Gothic 
style  of  architecture,  built  of  yellowish  w^hite  sand- 
stone. 

We  waited  in  the  shade  of  the  walls  of  Santa 
Cruz  to  rest  young  Liscomb,  and  the  main  company 
wound  its  way  along  to  a  rancho  a  few  miles  distant 
where  we  could  get  corn  for  the  horses  and  mules. 
I  did  not  have  time  to  see  enough  of  Santa  Cruz  to 
describe  it.  Like  all  the  towns  of  this  part  of  the 
country,  it  has  the  remains  of  strong  walls,  that 
fifty  years  ago  gave  safety  from  the  incursions  of 
the  Indians. 

As  the  day  cooled  we  took  Liscomb  on,  and 
crossed  the  Conchos  River,  called  by  the  natives, 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  1 1 1 


of  course,  "Rio  Grande,"  as  they  call  every  river 
in  Mexico.  On  reaching  camp  I  found  Langdon 
Havens  had  killed  three  glossy  ibises  at  one  shot; 
they  are  most  abundant  here,  also  white  egrets  and 
green  herons,  and  I  was  delighted  to  see  buff- 
necked  Cormorants  of  California,  and  many  other 
birds  strange  and  new,  but  no  time  have  I  to  study 
them,  or  even  to  secure  and  prepare  specimens, 
and  how  could  I  carry  them  if  I  had  them? 

I  was  called  here  to  see  Carroll,  who  while 
measuring  corn  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit,  after 
which  he  was  so  exhausted  we  had  to  leave  him 
behind  with  four  men,  and  we  rode  ten  miles 
further  on,  and  at  the  setting  of  the  sun  came  to  a 
little  river,  with  high  bluffs,  and  most  beautiful  in 
the  light  and  shade  given  by  the  clouds. 

Our  path  has  been  most  precipitous,  alternately 
descending  and  ascending,  to  and  from  the  river. 
Never  in  any  country  have  I  seen  more  beautiful 
lands;  we  rode  through  groves  of  water-oak,  and 
what  I  should  call  willow-oaks,  with  a  sweet  little 
acorn,  almost  as  good  as  a  nut,  occasionally  pines 
and  cedars;  and  there  are  many  little  brooks,  in 
nearly  all  of  which  are  fish,  so  I  presume  there 
must  be  water  holes  all  the  year  round. 

Antelopes  are  seen  from  time  to  time,  but  only 
one  or  two  a  day,  wonderfully  scarce  for  a  country 
apparently  so  well  adapted  for  both  deer  and 
antelopes.     The  black-tailed  hare  is  seen  too,  but 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


scarce,  compared  to  the  numbers  we  saw  after 
leaving  Parras. 

Leaving  this  place  we  rode  along  a  sandy  bottom, 
which  in  the  rainy  season  is  the  bed  of  a  torrent. 
We  left  just  before  sunrise,  and  the  heavy  dew  of 
this  country  gave  such  a  freshness  to  all  vegetation 
that  nature  seemed  more  luxuriant  than  ever.  The 
prairies  at  this  season  present  to  our  view  many 
beautiful  flowers,  nearly  all  of  a  most  delicate  char- 
acter, like  primroses,  larkspurs,  sweet  williams. 
Nettles  six  feet  high,  their  blue  flowers  almost 
hiding  the  rich  green  of  their  stinging  leaves, 
extend,  sometimes,  for  miles  along  the  sand  bars. 
The  cactus  seems  to  have  been  left  behind.  We 
now  found  quantities  of  mushrooms,  looking  like 
the  same  species  at  home,  and  having  the  same 
flavor  both  raw  and  cooked. 

The  minerals  I  cannot  speak  of,  but  Dr.  Trask 
tells  me  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of  silver,  and 
some  gold  in  the  earth  mixed  with  quantities  of 
lead.  The  stone  is  sandstone,  and  now  and  then 
we  see  most  beautiful  marbles,  black  and  white,  in 
strata,  as  if  laid  by  hand. 

We  killed  three  pigeons  today,  and  have  seen 
many,  of  what  I  take  to  be  either  Steller's  Jay  or 
the  ultramarine,  but  they  are  so  shy,  we  cannot  get 
at  them.  One  of  "the  boys"  gave  me  two  young 
marmots,  but  I  cannot  place  them,  though  the  spots 
are  a  good  deal  like  the  Mexican,  but  not  regular 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  i  13 

enough  for  that  species.  The  land  snail,  which 
as  far  as  Monterey  was  abundant,  has  gradually 
disappeared,  and  we  are  now  free  from  it.  The 
eatables  in  this  country  are  scarce,  no  vegetables 
except  beans,  onions,  and  a  very  small  pea.  Beans 
are  seventy-five  cents  an  ''Almud."  Corn  one  and 
one  half  to  three  dollars  a  "fanega"  (nearly  three 
bushels).  Cattle,  half  grown,  three  to  twelve 
dollars.  Sheep  from  a  dollar  and  a  half  to  two 
dollars.  Hogs,  strange  to  say,  run  up  to  eighteen 
and  twenty  dollars,  and  are  fattened  expressly  for 
the  lard,  which  is  as  high  as  eight  dollars  for 
twenty-five  pounds,  and  a  very  large,  fat  animal 
has  sold  for  fifty  dollars. 

Concepcion,  about  the  tw^entieth  town  of  the 
name  we  have  passed,  is  a  dirty  little  place,  with  a 
church  and  nunnery.  The  inhabitants  are  like  all 
other  Mexicans,  and  are  in  eternal  dread  of  the 
Apaches.  So  far  we  have  not  seen  a  hostile  Indian, 
and  only  once  a  trail,  which  was  that  of  the 
"Taromari"  [Taraumara]^  tribe,  and  our  guide 
said  were  not  Bravos.  Many  of  the  people  take 
advantage  of  us  as  an  escort,  and  run  along  either 
before  or  behind,  and  at  night  camp  near  us. 

July  2d.  We  wound  along  the  meanderings  of 
the  river  "Verde,"  sometimes  smooth  and  again 
a    dashing    torrent,    and    reached    "El    Rancho 


^  The  Taraumara  or  more  properly  the  Tarahumara  Indians 
are  described  in  H.  H.  Bancroft's  Native  Races^  vol.  i,  chap.  v. 


I  14  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Arisachi,"  deserted  by  its  original  owners.  It  is 
worked  by  Tarimari  Indians  and  owned  now  by 
some  one  whose  name  we  could  not  find  out.  We 
tried  to  buy  cattle,  for  we  had  had  no  fresh  meat 
for  several  days;  but  any  we  pointed  out  could  not 
be  bought,  no  owner  could  be  found.  I  told  Van 
Horn,  our  best  shot,  to  pick  out  the  fattest  yearling 
he  could  find,  and  we  would  pay  the  owner  if  he 
came  forward.  The  beast  was  no  sooner  shot  than 
a  man  claimed  the  price.  By  the  time  we  had 
dressed  the  animal,  and  packed  the  four  quarters 
on  our  meat  mules,  no  vestige  was  seen  of  the  dead 
animal  —  entrails,  head,  etc.,  being  carried  ofif  by 
the  Indians. 

From  this  rancho  we  had  to  leave  our  beautiful 
stream  for  a  mountain  pass,  and  the  first  precipice 
we  ascended  cost  Watkinson  his  horse;  the  poor 
brute  had  no  bones  broken,  but  was  so  lame  from 
his  fall,  that  we  had  to  leave  him  behind.  There 
was  plenty  of  grass  and  water  in  the  valley  near 
which  he  fell  and  we  hoped  he  would  be  found 
and  cared  for,  not  eaten,  as  among  these  Indians  is 
the  rule  when  horses  or  mules  are  broken  down  or 
injured.  In  places  our  road  was  almost  impassable, 
but  we  reached  the  top  of  the  first  hill  and  had  a 
view  of  the  next,  about  three  times  higher.  We 
could  see  very  distinctly  the  zig-zag  line  of  our 
road,  in  the  red  clay  between  the  rocks  and  stones, 
and   foresaw   hard   work   for  ourselves    and   our 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  1 15 

animals.  Down  we  went,  and  in  half  an  hour 
after  began  the  new  ascent.  We  were  compelled 
to  leave  a  mule  here,  and  to  divide  his  pack  between 
two  or  three  other  animals. 

Soon  after,  we  made  the  last  ascent,  most  abrupt 
and  trying  of  all,  but  from  the  summit  had  a 
magnificent  view  of  a  broad  plain  such  as  I  have 
never  seen  surpassed.  On  either  hand  mountain 
after  mountain  covered  with  oak  and  pine,  and 
contrasts  of  sun  and  shade  were  before  us,  and  the 
velvety  distance  ended  in  a  rainbow.  After  a 
heavy  descent  we  encamped  on  the  brink  of  a  little 
creek,  overhung  by  tall  pines. 

Here  we  saw  two  elks,  and  Jack  Black,  mounted 
on  a  tired  mule  thought  he  could  get  near  enough 
to  have  a  shot,  but  after  going  about  two  miles, 
changed  his  mind. 

July  3d.  This  morning  we  started  early,  and 
our  road  along  this  little  stream  was  beautiful  and 
so  quiet  that  I  lagged  behind  to  enjoy  it  as  much 
as  possible,  but  in  a  short  time  we  began  a  stony 
ascent  of  two  miles,  after  which  came  an  uncom- 
fortable descent  into  another  beautiful  valley,  but 
with  poor  grass;  here  we  took  a  short  rest,  and 
then  continued,  reaching,  at  noon,  Tomochic,  on  a 
little  river  of  the  same  name.  The  old  Mission 
had  only  the  original  tower;  the  rest  of  the  build- 
ing is  now  adobe. 

The  river  here  makes  a  sudden  turn  from  south- 


Il6  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

east  to  northwest,  and  we  took  it  up-stream;  it 
runs  through  miles  of  sandstone  worn  into  cliffs 
and  fissures,  presenting  the  most  fantastic  shapes 
imaginable,  delighting  us  at  every  turn.  We 
looked  in  vain  for  fish  in  the  most  tempting  of 
eddies  and  holes,  but  saw  very  few;  little  trout 
about  five  inches  long  were  all  that  rewarded  our 
search.  We  crossed  and  re-crossed  this  stream 
twenty-two  times  in  about  seven  miles,  and 
encamped  on  a  sandy  bottom  covered  with  fine 
pines.  Here  I  saw  Steller's  jays  and  Clement  shot 
one  for  me;  I  also  saw  a  fox  squirrel,  but  I  could 
not  get  it,  and  do  not  know  its  species.  A  magnifi- 
cent hawk  flew  over  us;  he  had  two  white  bands 
on  his  tail  —  could  it  be  Falco  lagopus? 

Fourth  of  July.  Paso  Chapadaro.  Calm,  misty, 
silent.  The  sun  soon  threw  its  red  light  over  all 
we  saw  to  the  west,  but  was  hidden  by  the  range  of 
mountains  to  the  east  which  we  had  passed,  till 
mastering  at  an  effort,  as  it  seemed,  the  highest 
ridge,  it  burst  forth  in  all  its  splendor.  In  the 
bottom  of  my  saddle-bags,  rolled  in  a  handker- 
chief, was  a  fiag  given  me  by  poor  Hamilton 
Boden,  and  by  the  time  the  haze  had  gone,  it 
floated  in  the  breeze,  from  the  top  of  the  highest 
tree  near  our  camp;  nature  was  all  in  a  smile,  and 
we  prepared  to  spend  the  day  according  to  our 
various  inclinations.  Some  slept,  some  basked  in 
indolence,  some  started  off  to  look  for  game,  some 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  1 17 

looked  to  their  saddle-bags  and  blankets;  all  was 
rest,  at  least  from  travel,  and  I  unpacked  my  paper 
and  pencils  and  made  a  sketch  of  the  "Fourth 
of  July  Camp." 

Wild  cattle  were  abundant,  and  noon  saw  our 
camp  in  possession  of  a  fine  heifer  shot  by  Rhoades. 
Steaks  were  broiled  and  fried,  ribs  roasted,  brains 
stewed  in  the  skull;  delicacies  under  such  circum- 
stances unequalled  by  the  cuisine  of  a  palace. 

When  evening  came.  Mess  No.  4,  all  good 
singers,  gave  us  some  beautiful  choruses  from 
operas,  as  well  as  simpler  songs,  and  as  night 
brought  the  solemn  quiet,  and  the  moon  glided  in 
its  ordained  course,  "Old  Hundred"  was  sung  with 
the  most  solemn  feelings  of  reverence  and  adora- 
tion. 

July  5/A.  Gabilana.  Four  o'clock  saw  us  on 
our  way.  We  rode  some  hours  along  the  valley, 
rich  in  grass,  shade-trees  and  springs  of  delicious 
water;  then  came  a  steep  ascent,  and  most  of  us 
had  to  walk.  We  lost  another  mule  today,  but 
before  leaving  it  succeeded  in  getting  it  to  the 
table-land  at  the  top  of  the  gorge  we  had  just 
ascended.  It  was  a  beautiful  grove  of  pines  and 
plenty  of  short  green  grass  was  under  foot,  and, 
most  welcome  sight,  a  log  house  looking  so  like 
home  that  a  dozen  of  the  boys  rode  ofif  to  see  "a 
white  woman;"  but  their  disappointment  was 
great  —  it  was  simply  the  house  of  a  Mexican  who 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


had  been  in  Texas  some  years,  and  had  learned  how- 
to  live  in  a  little  comfort. 

July  6th.  Santa  Borgia.  The  woods  today 
were  most  luxuriant  as  we  wound  round  the  gorge 
that  commenced  again  our  ascent  to  some  still 
higher  mountains.  Our  common  robin  was 
abundant,  and  a  large  green  parrot,  with  a  red 
head,  was  seen  in  every  clump  of  pines,  but  its 
uncouth  squalling  was  distracting.  Except  the 
cardinal  and  other  gros-beaks  how  few  birds  of 
splendid  plumage  have  sweet  voices. 

July  Jth.  Pitochi.  Today  we  have  followed 
one  of  the  most  extraordinary  gorges  we  have  seen, 
crossing  and  winding  along  the  banks  of  a  beautiful 
little  stream,  till  between  giant  precipices  w^e  had 
almost  the  sensation  that  they  might  tumble  in  to 
fill  the  gap  and  crush  us.  One  particularly  fine 
white  cliff",  we  judged  nine  hundred  feet  above  us; 
topped  ofif  wdth  high  towers  of  nearly  white  sand- 
stone, its  sharp  lines  broken  by  a  straggling  pine  or 
scraggy  cedar,  growing  in  some  of  the  many 
fissures,  it  was  so  grand  that  w^e  left  it-  with 
regret. 

July  gth.  Cerro  Prieto.  I  saw  today  the  first 
water-ousel  I  ever  saw  alive  in  America,  and  was 
enchanted  with  his  movements,  as  he  jerked  his 
wren-shaped  body  with  sprightly  activity,  or  with 
whirring  flight  went  from  stone  to  stone,  or  sud- 
denly plunged,  in  the  most  unnatural  manner,  into 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  119 

the  foaming  little  torrent,  and  spread  his  wings 
half  open,  the  pinions  lowest.  He  headed  up 
stream,  keeping  at  the  bottom,  and  went  about 
feeding  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  with  as  much 
ease,  if  not  as  rapidly,  as  a  bird  in  the  air. 

July  lot/i.  Early  as  we  start,  no  one  murmurs. 
I  am  writing  a  few  yards  apart  from  Mess  No.  12, 
a  queer  lot.  Rhoades,  who  has  crossed  the  plains 
from  Fort  Independence  to  Santa  Fe  eleven  times, 
and  Barrat,  a  wagoner  of  the  Mexican  War,  are 
both  very  original,  and  perhaps  would  not  get  on 
well  with  the  others  but  for  Dr.  Trask,  a  truly 
good  man,  who  is  their  Captain.  It  is  a  misty 
morning,  fire  more  of  smoke  than  warmth,  tent 
wet,  blankets  cold  and  clammy,  and  we  are  wait- 
ing for  them  to  dry  before  packing.  The  roll  has 
been  called,  and  each  mess  is  preparing  break- 
fast. I  hear  Dr.  Trask  courteously  ask:  ''Are 
those  plates  clean?"  and  Rhoades's  nonchalant 
answer:  "To  be  sure  they  are,  didn't  we  eat  off 
'em  last  night." 

July  I2th.  Concepcion.  Yesterday  we  passed 
oaks  with  a  heavy  leaf,  glazed  on  the  top,  so  as  to 
look  as  rich  as  the  magnolia  grandiflora  of  Louis- 
iana. Raspberries  are  abundant  but  not  ripe,  and 
straw^berries  plentiful.  We  camped  on  ground 
covered  with  dwarf  huckleberries,  and  a  species 
of  plantain  of  which  our  mules  ate  freely,  but  the 
horses  sparsely. 


I20  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

July  14th.  We  commenced  our  day  with  the 
ascent  of  a  steep  rocky  hill,  with  the  trail  cut  in  by 
the  mules  much  in  the  manner  of  those  we  had 
seen  before,  and  the  road  at  first  was  so  steep  that 
we  had  to  lead  our  horses.  One  of  our  mules 
gave  out  completely  and  we  had  to  leave  it  on  the 
table  land  which  is  almost  invariably  the  apex 
of  these  mountains.  A  beautiful  grove  of  pines 
with  short  but  good  grass  beneath,  made  a  fine 
contrast  of  color.  As  we  camped  our  usual  storm 
came  on  more  violent  than  usual,  and  we  were 
drenched  through.  Lieut.  Browning  says:  "The 
claps  of  thunder  and  flashes  of  lightning  are  very 
well  done  in  this  country." 

July  l8th.  Our  road  today  was  by  far  the  most 
tedious  we  have  had,  being  up  hill  nearly  all  the 
time,  but  the  view  from  the  top  almost  repaid  us, 
if  not  our  mules,  for  the  toil.  We  arrived  at  the 
highest  top  near  Jesus  Maria;  miles  of  mountain 
tops  and  peaks  of  rock  and  woods  are  far  below 
us.  Through  a  gap  we  looked  at  clouds  blending 
with  the  mists  below  them,  until  the  scene  was 
like  an  ocean  view. 

Four  hours  and  a  half  of  most  precipitous 
descent  brought  us  to  a  luxuriant  growth  of  pine 
and  spruce,  and  passing  through  one  of  the  wildest 
and  most  picturesque  gorges  I  have  ever  seen,  we 
came  to  the  extraordinary  little  town  of  Jesus 
Maria,  situated  at  the  junction  of  two  little  torrents 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  I2I 

of  clear,  beautiful  water,  tumbling  in  noisy,  joyous 
splashing  from  rock  to  basin,  and  carrying  away 
the  rubbish  from  this  half-civilized  settlement  of 
miners  as  it  passes  through  the  town. 

July  igth.  Jesus  Maria.  Gold  and  silver  are 
both  found  here,  and  the  rock  which  contains  these 
ores  is  soft  and  easily  ground;  the  most  common 
way  of  grinding  seems  to  be  a  flutter  wheel  fas- 
tened to  a  shaft,  which  turns  on  another  within  the 
inner  circle;  this  inner  one  is  water  tight,  and 
two  large  stones  are  pulled  round  by  ropes  of  raw- 
hide fast  to  the  wheel,  which  is  about  three  feet 
from  the  ground.  These  are  trailed  round  and 
smash  the  ore  for  two  or  three  days;  it  is  then 
dried,  pulverized  and  washed.  Sometimes  simple 
washing,  and  sometimes  with  amalgam  of  quick- 
silver, gives  the  result  of  eight  to  ten  marks  of 
silver  to  the  cargo,  viz:  —  three  hundred  pounds. 
Gold  is  much  more  variable  in  its  profits. 

Everything  used  here  is  brought  from  the 
Pacific  side,  quicksilver,  irons,  wines  and  liquors; 
even  flour  is  sometimes  brought,  but  most  of  that 
comes  from  Sonora  which  is  ten  days'  travel  to 
the  east. 

July  20th.  There  was  no  open  space  large 
enough  for  us  to  picket  our  mules  and  pitch  our 
tents  in  this  town  (said  to  contain  two  thousand 
inhabitants)  and  eventually  we  had  to  hire  the 
only  corral  in  the  place,  full  of  fleas  and  dirt,  for 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


which  we  had  to  pay  twelve  dollars  per  day.  It 
is  only  about  seventy  yards  long  and  perhaps  thirty 
broad,  so  that  we  are  very  crowded.  We  find  here 
three  Americans,  two  Swiss  and  one  Italian,  who 
have  for  many  years  resided  in  this  country  as 
traders.  There  were  a  number  of  Englishmen, 
owners  and  superintendents  of  mines,  who  all 
treated  us  most  kindly.  I  think  the  view  of  Jesus 
Maria  which  I  give,  supersedes  the  necessity  of 
a  verbal  description  of  its  situation,  but  not  of  the 
town  itself,  which  is  the  place  of  all  others  that 
would  be  selected  by  a  man  who  had  left  behind 
him  enemies  sworn  to  vengeance,  for  two  minutes' 
start  up  any  of  the  mountains  would  insure  a  safe 
retreat. 

Yet  the  place  has  its  charms;  superb  rocks,  wild 
passes,  and  withal  a  vegetation  so  luxuriant  that 
with  the  dozens  of  birds  I  could  have  spent  weeks 
of  enjoyment,  but  we  leave  tomorrow  as  we  have 
been  here  two  days. 

July  22d.  Leaving  the  public  square  yesterday 
we  took  a  winding  alley  up  the  precipitous  moun- 
tain: two  of  our  mules  fell  off  the  trail;  one  rolled 
over  ten  or  twelve  times,  pack  and  all,  and  then 
to  our  utter  amazement  got  up,  having  come  by 
a  series  of  falls  to  a  small  level  space,  and  began 
to  eat. 

We  spent  four  hours  going  six  miles  to  where 
the  rear  of  the  company  encamped;  thirty  mules 


O      O 


m^ 


,'■■'  )^ 


-■^r 


•^  W; 


A 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  125 

and  thirteen  men  went  six  miles  further,  and  Mr. 
Browning  found  himself  with  three  men,  four 
miles  ahead  of  all,  with  no  other  assistance,  and 
eighteen  mules  to  care  for.  These  distances  between 
us  are  the  result  of  the  unequal  strength  of  our 
mules,  and  one  mule  and  a  horse  left  behind  us. 
A  drizzling  rain  came  up  as  night  fell,  and  we 
had  a  miserable  night. 

July  23d.  Limestone,  sandstone,  and  huge 
masses  of  amalgam  of  gravel  and  sand,  with  quartz, 
have  been  all  about  us.  The  small  plants  are 
numerous ;  ferns  everywhere,  a  beautiful  scarlet 
honeysuckle  is  very  plentiful,  spruce,  pine,  balsam 
fir,  hemlock  and  pitch-pine  are  all  seen;  our 
swamp  alder  grows  here  to  great  size,  looking  like 
black  beech.  Raspberries  are  as  good  as  in 
Maine,  and  very  abundant  in  many  of  the  ravines 
and  valleys.  The  magnificent  oak  with  glossy 
leaves  is  here  too,  and  a  new  species  of  reed,  a 
perfect  miniature  of  our  large  cane  of  the  west. 
Steller's  jay,  a  titmouse,  and,  I  think,  a  crossbill, 
have  been  seen,  but  no  parrots  such  as  we  saw  to 
the  east  of  Jesus  Maria.  Mists  and  fogs  hang 
over  the  mountains,  and  the  air  is  cold  and  damp 
unless  the  sun  shines,  and  then  it  is  very  hot. 
Deep,  indeed,  is  the  solitude  of  this  grand  country, 
for  but  little  animation  is  seen.  Often  as  I  sit 
sketching  or  writing  I  hear  only  the  chirp  of  some 


126  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

cricket,  or  distant  scream  of  a  hawk  to  tell  me  that 
living  things  are  about  me. 

July  2Sth.  We  have  been  feasting  on  venison, 
here  very  plentiful,  and  much  sought  after  by  the 
men,  to  such  an  extent  indeed  that  Nicholas  Walsh 
having  wounded  a  deer  yesterday,  which  was  both 
misty  and  cloudy,  followed  it  over  hill  and  dale 
and  lost  himself. 

We  made  a  large  fire  hoping  he  might  see  it, 
fired  guns  and  shouted,  and  early  today  he  was 
found  by  a  Mexican  scout;  he  had  wandered  about 
for  thirty  hours  between  leaving  the  party  and 
returning  to  it.  He  had  been  greatly  frightened, 
and  looked  wild,  when  the  Mexican  brought  him 
in.  He  said  he  kept  getting  almost  within  range 
of  the  wounded  animal  when  it  disappeared,  and 
heavy  rain  began  falling  which  washed  out  the 
blood  of  the  trail  which  would  have  showed  him 
the  way  back.  He  thought  his  heart  would  burst 
when  he  realized  he  was  lost  in  an  Indian  country; 
he  had  no  idea  where  he  was;  everything  was  mist 
and  greyness;  he  was  cold,  hungry,  and  soaked 
through,  and  worst  of  all  his  gun  and  ammunition 
were  wet;  he  was  so  eager  not  to  lose  sight  of  the 
deer  that  he  had  forgotten  the  rule  always  to  reload 
as  soon  as  a  charge  is  fired,  when  in  an  enemy's 
country,  as  the  report  of  the  gun  will  inform  the 
Indian  of  your  proximity.  He  never  heard  one 
of  the  guns  that  were  fired  every  fifteen  minutes 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  127 

from  our  camp,  and  as  soon  as  dawn  came  search- 
ing parties  started  in  every  direction,  little  know- 
ing that  Walsh  was  trotting  towards  us,  behind  a 
Mexican,  in  the  peculiar  half  run  of  that  grade  of 
native,  when  in  haste. 

David  Hudson  and  I  had  struck  far  ofif  to  the 
north,  and  had  traversed  table  lands  and  mountain 
paths  for  some  miles,  when  just  as  we  emerged  from 
a  patch  of  oaks  and  undergrowth,  all  dead,  thin, 
dried,  brown  leaves  in  contrast  with  the  full 
summer  bloom  of  everything  outside  this  blighted 
spot,  we  heard  the  tread  of  men,  and  quietly 
moving  behind  two  large  trees  near  us,  waited  to 
see  who  the  newcomers  were.  We  knew  we  had 
heard  the  footsteps  of  more  than  one  man,  but 
only  the  Mexican  appeared  at  first;  in  a  few  sec- 
onds with  eyes  like  owls  in  daylight,  mouth  open, 
hair  streaming  in  every  direction,  and  looking  like 
an  escaped  Bedlamite,  came  Walsh.  He  gripped 
my  hand  so  that  it  feels  bruised  yet;  his  first  words 
were:  "Good  fellow  if  he  is  a  Greaser,  have  you 
two  dollars?"  The  Mexican  told  us  he  had  left 
the  mine  where  he  worked,  to  go  to  the  rancho 
where  his  sweetheart  lived,  and  knowing  the 
country  well,  took  a  cross  trail  for  speed  and  heard 
a  man  making  a  great  noise  who  seemed  to  want 
something;  he  soon  found  him  and  knew  at  once 
he  belonged  to  our  company  whom  he  had  seen 
at  Jesus  Maria. 


128  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

July  2Jth.  We  parted  today  with  Joseph 
Stevenson,  one  of  our  blacksmiths,  to  my  great 
regret.  He  returned  to  Jesus  Maria  where  he  is 
going  into  partnership  with  a  Mr.  Williams,  a 
carpenter,  and  will  no  doubt  make  a  good  living 
for  he  is  a  very  excellent  workman.  I  passed  today 
a  large  pine  tree  with  the  most  curious  display  of 
the  sagacity,  instinct,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called, 
of  some  insectivorous  bird,  I  think  a  red-headed 
woodpecker;  for  I  saw  one  a  few  minutes  after- 
wards, and  he  may  be  the  workman.  The  bark 
of  the  tree  was  perforated  with  holes  just  large 
enough  in  diameter  to  hold  the  small  acorn  of  this 
country,  say  half  an  inch,  and  about  as  deep;  the 
holes  were  from  a  quarter  of  an  inch  to  an  inch 
and  a  half  apart;  the  acorns  seemed  all  to  be  put 
in  butt  end  foremost,  I  suppose  because  the  cone 
end  would  turn  the  rain  better.  Should  instinct 
tell  all  this  to  the  beautiful  bird  who  lays  up  his 
store  in  this  manner  so  that  he  may  go  in  the  winter 
to  eat  the  grub  that  is  sure  to  be  in  every  acorn, 
how  wonderful  are  the  provisions  of  Nature  for 
her  children. 

This  high  ridge  gives  a  complete  change  of 
birds;  Steller's  jay,  so  common  a  few  days'  journey 
from  here,  is  rare  —  indeed,  I  have  only  seen  one; 
the  Ultramarine  takes  its  place,  and  I  hope  in  a 
few  days  to  see  the  Columbian;  a  few  ravens  are 
to  be  seen,  and  one  hawk,  like  our  red-tailed,  but 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  129 


I  am  not  sure  of  him.  The  lightning  here  is  most 
vivid,  and  on  the  sides  of  some  of  the  mountains 
of  medium  height,  I  found  seared  and  scathed 
patches  of  timber  and  undergrowth,  as  if  ignition 
of  the  electric  fluid  had  taken  place  at  those  spots, 
possibly  attracted  to  them  by  the  presence  of  iron; 
if  this  is  so,  how  terrific  would  be  the  destruction 
to  our  company  if  such  an  event  occurred  where 
we  were  encamped. 

July  28th.  Paragarto.  We  did  not  leave  camp 
•until  nearly  noon,  waiting  for  a  train  of  one 
hundred  and  eighty-two  mules  packed  with  noth- 
ing but  flasks  of  quicksilver;  the  usual  length  of 
trains  is  about  forty  to  fifty,  with  six  or  eight  men. 
Our  road  was  the  usual  ascent  and  descent,  and  on 
the  second  descent  I  saw  fifteen  or  twenty  swifts, 
about  double  the  size  of  our  common  chimney  swift 
at  home.  They  appeared  to  nest  on  the  clififs 
opposite  to  the  trail,  a  location  similar  to  that  of 
the  first  Republican  swallow  my  father^  found  near 
Cincinnati. 

Sundown  found  us  in  a  beautiful  little  valley, 
setting  up  our  tents  in  the  usual  rain,  and  trying  to 

1  The  ClifF  Swallow  [Petrocheitdon  lunifrons)  is  described  in 
Audubon's  Birds  of  America^  ed.  1840,  vol.  i,  p.  177.  Audubon 
proposed  the  name  Hirundo  7-epubUcana  in  1824,  but  Say  had 
named  the  species  Hirundo  lunifrons  the  year  before.  I  am  in- 
debted to  Dr.  F.  H.  Snow  for  reference  to  the  synonymy  and 
the  account  of  the  discovery  of  this  species  in  Coues's  Birds 
of  the  Colorado  Valley^  pait  i,  pp.  426-429. 


130  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

dry  ourselves  by  the  fires  of  those  who  had 
come  in  ahead.  We  have  now  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  daily  rains  that  it  is  a  matter  of  course 
to  encounter  them.  There  is  a  rancho  here  with 
peaches  and  figs  in  abundance.  In  this  valley  we 
went  again  to  shoeing  horses;  never  were  shoes 
lost  in  so  short  a  time  as  on  these  cruel  trails,  some- 
times they  are  wrenched  of¥  in  a  few  hours,  and 
they  commonly  get  loose  and  require  nails  every 
three  or  four  days.  Layton  and  I  ascended  one 
of  the  highest  peaks  in  the  neighborhood;  like  all 
other  mountain  regions  when  one  peak,  seemingly 
the  highest,  is  reached,  others  still  higher  appear 
between  us  and  the  desired  view.  Out  of  breath, 
shoes  cut,  and  clothes  torn,  we  reached  the  foot  of 
the  highest  elevation  like  the  cone  of  Vesuvius, 
and  found  it  an  arduous  climb;  broken,  reddish 
traprock  of  all  sizes  made  the  mass,  and  a  strag- 
gling pine  from  time  to  time  added  to  the  solemnity 
of  this  desolate  place,  which  filled  me  with  awe 
and  reverence,  which  was  not  decreased  as  mut- 
tering thunder  gave  us  warning  that  our  turn 
would  be  next,  if  the  attractions  of  the  mountains 
the  storm  was  already  besieging,  did  not  exhaust 
the  clouds.  Silently,  however,  we  struggled  up- 
wards, and  another  half  hour  enabled  us  to  look 
to  the  east,  south,  and  west  as  far  as  eye  could 
reach;  the  north  was  left  to  our  imaginations, 
being  hid  by  a  veil  of  clouds  which  sent  flash  after 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  133' 

flash,  peal  after  peal,  to  tell  us  of  the  storm  which 
held  sway  there.  Distance  lent  such  enchantment 
to  all  that  the  valleys  and  slopes  looked  as  velvety 
as  an  English  lawn. 

Our  descent  was  very  rapid,  but  giving  the  usual 
fatigue  of  a  downhill  march.  I  saw  many  runs  of 
deer,  no  doubt  made  by  the  bucks  following  the 
doe,  though  they  are  still  in  velvet.  I  saw  some 
squirrels  but  could  not  get  at  them,  as  the  stones 
on  which  we  were  walking  were  So  loose  that  they 
would  sometimes  roll  two  hundred  feet  (I  might 
almost  say  yards),  and  made  so  much  noise  that 
they  startled  not  only  them,  but  the  deer. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  hill  weboth  bathed  in  the 
little  torrent  that  waters  the  beautiful  valley;  at 
times  it  is  two  or  three  hundred  yards  wide,  and 
again  compressed  so  much  as  only  just  to  leave 
room  to  let  the  stream  through.  Its  chilly  bracing 
foam  sent  a  sparkle  through  us  as  if  bathing  in  soda 
water,  and  we  may  boast  of  having  had  such  a  bath 
as  few  can  enjoy,  unsurpassed  for  its  freshness, 
and  in  the  very  heart  of  the  southern  Rocky  moun- 
tains, perhaps  a  spot  never  seen  by  any  other  white 
men. 

August  6th,  Trinidad.  The  loss  of  mules,  a 
few  terrific  passes,  and  here  and  there  a  valley  of 
extreme  beauty  brought  us  to  the  western  ridge  of 
the  chain  of  mountains  leading  down  to  Trinidad, 
a  little  old,  worn-out  place,  having  only  some  few 


134  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

hundred  inhabitants,  the  town  itself  containing 
some  stores  like  those  we  have  come  across  every- 
where from  Davis's  Rancho  to  Jesus  Maria.  At 
Trinidad  there  are  three  Frenchmen,  one  the 
Alcalde,  the  other  two  traders,  dealing  in  every- 
thing from  horses  to  a  single  tallow  candle.  They 
also  sell  quantities  of  muscalle,  which  is  taken 
mainly  for  the  love  of  the  alcohol,  for  any  dose  of 
medicine  would  be  as  palatable,  and  in  this  hot 
country  probably  more  beneficial,  certainly  less 
injurious.  I  asked  one  of  the  Frenchmen,  now 
so  long  a  resident  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  his 
own  language,  what  induced  him  to  live  in  such  a 
country.  His  answer  was  short  and  to  the  point: 
"The  love  of  gold."  "Have  you  found  it?"  I 
asked.  "No,"  was  his  reply,  "but  I  cannot  return 
without  it."  So  it  is  with  many  of  all  nations,  who, 
lured  by  the  stories  of  fortunes  easily  made,  come 
to  this  part  of  the  earth  and  grow  more  and  more 
lazy  and  indolent,  until  they  have  become  unfit  for 
the  active,  energetic  industry  requisite  in  happier 
and  more  enlightened  portions  of  the  world.  The 
people  here  simply  vegetate;  many  of  them  drink, 
and  are  depraved  in  many  ways.  Some  seem 
happy  with  their  Mexican  wives,  who,  however, 
are  neither  as  handsome  nor  as  clever  as  quadroons. 
Nature  is  beautiful  at  every  turn,  now  in  bird 
and  beast,  then  in  tree  and  flower,  then  in  rock  and 
rill:  how  pained  I  am  to  pass  them  all  by;  but  the 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  135 

position  into  wliich  I  have  been  forced  demands 
every  hour,  and  I  am  never  my  own  master. 

August  8th.  Santa  Rosa.  Today  I  passed  three 
partridges  and  two  doves,  warblers  and  flycatchers 
without  number,  all  new,  and  many  most  beautiful. 
Santa  Rosa  where  we  are  camped  is  a  beautifully 
situated  little  village,  with  a  silver  mine  as  its 
chief  interest.  There  are  some  fine  horses  here, 
possessing  more  of  the  Arabian  look  than  any  I 
have  seen  before  in  Mexico.  With  great  regret,  I 
exchanged  my  old  favorite  Monterey  for  a  mare 
here  worth  six  or  eight  dollars.  With  all  my  care  of 
Monterey,  I  could  not  save  his  back,  and  I  felt  as 
if  parting  with  a  friend,  when  with  his  majestic 
stride,  his  ears  set  forward,  giving  to  his  small 
head  and  curved  neck  an  expression  of  excitement 
and  fierceness  peculiarly  his  own,  he  almost  sailed 
through  our  camp,  and  winding  down  a  pass  lead- 
ing to  the  village,  left  me  gazing  at  the  spot  where 
I  had  seen  him  last.  There  is  fine  grass  and  plent\' 
of  water,  and  I  was  told  he  had  gone  to  a  kind 
master,  an  Englishman  who  had  drifted  out  here. 

August  lOth.  We  left  our  camp  after  great 
difficulty  in  getting  our  mules  together,  and  at  six 
camped  again,  fifteen  miles  only,  on  our  way,  for 
it  has  been  up  and  down  hill  all  the  time.  The 
sunny  side  of  the  hills  is  always  very  hot  to  us, 
and  trying  to  our  poor  mules.  We  passed  many 
changes   of   vegetation   but   musquit   is   still    the 


136  Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 

prominent  portion.  One  tree  we  saw  had  a  large 
fruit  five  or  six  inches  long,  hanging  like  a  pear; 
it  contained  seed,  laid  in  like  those  of  the  milk- 
weed, and  we  were  told  the  cotton-like  substance 
which  enclosed  the  seeds  was  used  for  candlewick. 
Here  we  saw  the  first  large  cacti  I  had  seen  of  the 
cylindrical  form;  some  of  them  are  apparently 
forty  feet  high.  If  in  a  shaded  situation,  they 
have  only  one  or  two  shoots,  while  others  in  open 
ground  have  perhaps  fifty,  but  smaller  and  less 
luxuriant,  being  only  six  or  eight  inches  in  diam- 
eter, instead  of  four  or  more. 

August  nth.  Coming  down  the  creek  our 
second  day's  descent  we  opened  into  a  wide  arroyo 
of  sometimes  two  hundred  yards,  with  water 
running  through  it,  and  again  the  water  disap- 
peared and  the  dry  parched  bottom  sent  up  a  heat 
such  as  I  do  not  recollect  having  ever  felt  before. 
I  saw  the  men  fag,  get  down  and  tumble  on  the 
grass  at  the  sides,  whenever  a  shady  spot  could 
be  found,  and  the  poor  mules  seemed  completely 
exhausted.  Many  of  us  became  sick  at  our 
stomachs  from  the  effects  of  the  intense  contrast 
in  temperature,  for  we  had  left  an  atmosphere 
like  that  of  Maine,  for  the  tropics.  We  saw  a 
storm  coming  up  and  for  once  wished  it  to  hasten; 
but  we  had  no  rain,  only  a  gust  of  its  cooling 
breeze,  and  we  gladly  left  our  trying  surroundings 
for  a  delightful  shade  and  green  grass. 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  137 

August  14th.  We  have  had  the  same  sort  of 
travelling  today;  we  came  to  the  Yaqui  River,  a 
muddy  stream  at  this  season,  about  two  hundred 
yards  wide  and  so  deep  that  we  had  to  employ 
canoes  to  carry  over  our  cargoes;  the  canoes  are 
paddled  by  Mexicans  (no  great  boatmen,  by  the 
way)  ;  the  mules  and  horses  we  swam  over,  having 
passed  Tomochi  [Tonichi]  ;  the  little  town  is  said 
to  be  four  days'  travel  from  Ures;  it  is  about  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  river,  and  it  is  a 
deserted  mining  place  of  a  few  adobe  houses. 
Here,  as  usual,  was  sold  muscalle,  a  few  freholes 
[frejoles]^  and  wheaten  tortillas.  Only  once  have 
I  seen  pulque,  at  a  small  distillery  of  muscalle. 

August  T^th.  Soyopa.  Leaving  the  Rio  Yaqui 
for  its  little  tributaries,  which  are  sometimes  above 
ground,  and  sometimes  below,  running  over  the 
sands,  or  disappearing  underneath  them,  we 
encamped  in  a  quiet  cool  spot,  to  rest  after  the 
great  heat  of  the  sunny  sides  of  the  hills  we  had 
left  and  the  arroyos  made  by  mountain  torrents 
where  we  were  nearly  suffocated,  and  we  look 
forward  to  the  plains  of  the  Gulf  of  California  and 
the  sea  breeze  that  sweeps  them,  with  anticipations 
of  delight.  Alas!  an  occasional  thunderstorm  is  all 
that  gives  coolness  to  the  atmosphere  here,  for  the 
puffs  of  land  breeze  only  tantalize  and  do  not  cool. 

I  tried  here  to  buy  or  trade  horses,  and  regret  I 

^  Frejoles  ox  frijoles^  Spanish  for  beans. 


I3'8  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

did  not  get  one  I  saw,  but  the  straightened  circum- 
stances of  the  company  compelled  me  to  give  up 
the  idea. 

August  Ijth.  We  passed  a  large  rancho  of 
about  a  hundred  and  fifty  men  and  their  squaws, 
for  nearly  all  were  Indians,  and  camped  six  miles 
further  on;  but  as  night  came  on  thieves  came  too, 
whether  Mexicans  or  Apaches  I  know  not,  but 
we  have  never  encountered  bolder  ones.  Hinck- 
ley, Havens,  Sloat,  Valentine  and  Boggs  were  on 
guard,  all  good  men,  but  of  no  avail,  four  double 
barrelled  guns  and  two  pistols  were  taken,  one 
from  under  Boggs'  very  eyes  —  how,  no  one  could 
tell.  We  looked  for  the  trail  and  found  it,  large 
feet  and  small  moccasins  and  barefooted;  but  the 
dew  was  unswept  from  the  grass  outside  the  camp, 
so  the  theft  must  have  been  earlier  in  the  night:  we 
could  recover  nothing,  though  four  of  our  best 
men  went  back;  so  after  a  fruitless  search  of  some 
hours  we  left  for  Ures,  and  at  three  o'clock  entered 
into  a  series  of  hills  and  valleys  so  beautiful  in 
form  and  color,  so  fresh  and  green  that  our  spring 
could  not  equal  them.  Many  of  Cole's^  pictures 
were  brought  to  mind. 


^  Thomas  Cole  (i  801-1848),  an  American  landscape  painter 
of  English  birth,  was  one  of  the  earliest  artists  to  depict  the 
beauties  of  American  scenery ;  he  was  noted  for  his  scenes  in 
the  Catskills.  His  recent  death  doubtless  emphasized  his 
pictures  in  Audubon's  mind. 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  139 

August  22d.  Ures.  Three  days'  travel  over  a 
prairie  sometimes  covered  with  chaparral,  and 
sometimes  with  grass  brought  us  here.  We  are 
greatly  disappointed;  Ures,  the  capital  of  Sonora, 
with  its  Governor  and  military,  Alcalde  and  court, 
is  an  adobe  village  of  about  four  thousand  Indians, 
and  still  they  have  power,  and  the  Alcalde  proved 
himself  a  man  of  considerable  ability. 

Coming  down  the  mountains  to  the  Rio  Yaqui, 
we  left  coolness  for  heat.  First  we  saw  Turkey 
Buzzards,  and  lower  down  the  Carrion  Crow;  still 
farther  down  we  came  to  the  table  prairies  and 
there  were  the  Carra  Carra  Eagles^  in  great  num- 
bers; sometimes  we  saw  fifty  in  a  day,  so  that  birds 
mark  the  altitude.  The  mocking-bird,  raven  and 
jay  of  the  mountains  are  with  us  no  more.  I  have 
found  the  plumed  partridge  plentiful,  one  with  a 
black  breast  and  guinea-fowl  spots ;  but  they  are 
less  numerous  here  and  I  fear  will  soon  be  seen  no 
more.  We  are  told  gold  abounds  in  the  surround- 
ing mountains,  but  the  Apaches  are  so  bad  that  it 
cannot  be  secured;  however,  the  exaggerations  of 
these  people  are  so  amazing,  that  we  do  not  believe 
their  tales;  if  we  did  it  would  be  useless  to  leave 

^  The  Caracara  or  Brazilian  Eagle  is  described  in  Audubon's 
Birds  of  America^  tA.  1840,  vol.  i,  p.  21.  It  was  found  in 
Florida  by  Audubon  but  so  rarely  occurs  in  the  United  States 
that  it  is  not  included  in  the  "A.  O.  U.  Check  List  of  North 
American  Birds."  The  name  is  derived  from  the  hoarse  cry 
that  it  utters. 


140  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

here,  as  we  could  never  live  to  reach  our  destina- 
tion, there  are  so  many  difficulties;  one  great  one 
is  always  with  us,  that  is  our  poor  mules,  which 
fail  daily. 

August  28th.  Some  gentlemen  today  presented 
me  with  a  large  glass  jar  of  peaches,  beautifully 
preserved;  there  must  have  been  at  least  a  gallon, 
and  we  were  so  very  grateful,  for  we  become  very 
weary  of  our  monotonous  fare  of  coarse  bread 
made  from  unbolted  flour,  beef  or  game,  half 
cooked  often,  and  eaten  from  tin  plates  or  the 
frying  pan,  and  tin  cups  for  coffee,  if  we  have  it. 
We  heard  here  one  piano,  but  the  same  peculiar 
nasal  twang  pervades  the  singing  of  the  whole  of 
Northern  Mexico. 

On  the  journey  here  we  lost  eight  mules  and 
horses,  and  but  for  Clement  I  should  have  been 
hard  pressed  for  the  latter  for  Barratt.  Clement 
exchanged  his  horse  for  two  Mexican  ones,  which 
he  procured  from  Mr.  Gabilondo.  The  very  next 
day  I  heard  Clement's  horse  was  dead,  so  I  went 
at  once  to  see  Mr.  Gabilondo.  He  said  he  had 
sold  the  horse  and  a  bargain  was  a  bargain,  and 
that  probably  the  animal  had  eaten  something 
poisonous;  however,  revenge  was  tallced  of  by  all 
the  men,  and  I  found  a  fine  looking  mule  in  our 
train  very  mysteriously.  To  my  question  as  to 
where  the  mule  came  from,  I  was  told  he  had  been 
"traded  for;"  I  told  the  man  who  was  riding  him 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  141 

that  he  would  have  to  bear  all  risks,  and  he  cheer- 
fully said  he  would;  and  so  he  did,  for  when  the 
owner  came  forward,  with  his  brand  in  hand  —  the 
voucher,  in  this  country,  of  ownership  —  he  was 
told  very  politely  that  the  trade  had  been  made  for 
a  pair  of  pistols  (a  pair  that  had  been  stolen  four 
days  previously),  and  he  could  not  return  the  mule 
unless  the  pistols  were  forthcoming.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  "Carambo,"^  etc.,  but  the  train 
moved  on  through  half  the  rabble  of  Ures,  some 
of  whom  laughed,  some  swore. 

August  joth.  Leaving  Ures  the  country  is  more 
level ;  to  the  southeast  is  a  large  plain  covered  with 
musquit  of  a  different  species  from  that  on  the 
eastern  side,  and  not  quite  so  thorny;  the  large 
cactus  of  the  mountains  is  not  found  here,  two 
smaller  species  taking  its  place. 

I  did  not  leave  Ures  until  five  p.  m.,  when  the 
train  was  five  or  six  miles  ahead  of  me.  I  rode 
slowly  along  the  swampy  lane  leading  north  from 
the  town,  bordered  with  heavy  hedges  of  reeds 
and  chaparral,  with,  from  time  to  time,  a  cactus, 
a  palm,  or  a  cabbage  tree  breaking  the  line  of  the 
horizon.  One  tall  palm,  stiff  and  formal,  was 
standing  out  very  distinctly  in  the  soft  light 
between  moonrise  and  sunset.  Large  flocks  of  the 
yellow  troupial  in  noisy  bustle  settling  themselves 
in   the   rushes   and   willows   bordering  the   little 


Caramba  is  the  commonest  of  Spanish  interjections. 


142  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

stream  we  are  now  fording,  brought  to  my  mind 
many  an  evening  return  home. 

Two  or  three  miles  of  this  travelling  brought  me 
to  the  first  sandy  tableland,  and  the  dull  monotony 
of  a  road  shut  in  by  chaparral  continued  until  I 
came  to  the  camp,  low-spirited  and  tired,  and 
longing  for  the  end  of  this  toilsome  journey;  per- 
haps the  fact  that  Osgood,  Plumb  and  Brown  hav- 
ing left  us  at  Ures  to  go  by  way  of  Mazatlan  with 
another  company,  may  have  had  more  to  do  with 
my  depression  than  other  circumstances. 

Here,  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country,  with 
the  watchword  "Apache,"  in  the  mouth  of  every 
Mexican,  and  our  guard  rigid,  we  are  toiling  on 
through  an  interesting  country.  The  large  cactus, 
given  by  Fremont  or  Abert,^  we  met  here  in  great 
luxuriance,  having  a  centre  of  pulpy  pith  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  long  hearts,  one  for  each 
ridge  of  the  meat,  or  pulp,  of  the  plant.  If;  I 
only  had  time,  how  I  should  enjoy  making  draw- 
ings of  all  this,  but  I  cannot. 

^  Many  scientific  reports  appeared  in  the  public  documents 
of  this  period.  Fremont's  "Report  of  an  Expedition  to  Oregon 
and  California"  was  printed  both  in  Senate  and  House  documents 
and  in  a  separate  edition  in  1845.  The  Senate  documents  of 
the  1st  session  of  the  30th  Congress,  printed  in  1848,  contain 
Emory's  "Reconnoissance  from  Fort  Leavenworth  to  San 
Diego,"  Abert's  "Examination  of  New  Mexico,"  Wislizenus's 
"Memoir  of  a  Tour  to  Northern  Mexico,"  and  Fremont's 
"Geographical  Memoir  upon  Upper  California."  Audubon 
probably  had  in  mind  the  cylindrical  cactus  figured  by  Abert. 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  143' 

September  2d.  Two  days  out  from  Ures  we 
came  to  some  Pimos  Indians  washing  gold  from 
black  ore,  which  they  said  produced  well;  we 
found  some  lumps  of  ore  in  the  dust,  all  of  irreg- 
ular shapes.  The  value  is  only  about  one  real 
(about  ten  cents)  for  each  bushel  of  dirt.  Each 
man  made  about  two  dollars  a  day. 

We  had  fine  grass  and  pond  water  here,  and 
are  off  for  Altar. 

September  Qth.  Altar.  We  reached  this  place 
yesterday  after  eight  days  journey  over  barren, 
sandy  hills  exactly  like  these  which  surround  this 
town.  What  an  eight  days  it  has  been,  I  hate  to 
recall  to  my  mind  even  by  writing  these  brief 
notes.  Half  of  us  are  on  foot,  our  clothes  are 
ragged  and  torn,  and  we  have  lived  on  half  rations, 
often  less,  of  beans,  and  what  we  call  bread.  Sev- 
eral days  we  were  twenty  and  twenty-four  hours 
without  water,  no  grass  for  our  horses,  and  inex- 
pressibly weary  always.  Yet  we  are  well  and  not 
as  much  depressed  as  might  be  supposed,  and 
while  we  are  short  of  nearly  everything,  money 
included,  our  courage  is  in  no  degree  lessened. 

Altar  is  a  miserable  collection  of  adobe  houses, 
with  perhaps  a  thousand  inhabitants;  there  are 
only  one  or  two  grandees  here,  but  nearly  all  are 
of  Indian  mixture.  At  one  of  the  little  villages 
through  which  we  passed.  La  Nada,  we  had  all  the 
town  about  us,  admiring  our  white  (?)  faces,  and 


144  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

asking  hundreds  of  questions,  many  of  the  girls 
had  pretty  Indian  faces,  and  beautiful  teeth  and 
hair.  Great  quantities  of  peaches  grow  in  the 
valleys  and  irrigated  gardens,  but  what  comfort 
there  is  is  very  primitive.  Plenty  of  the  Cali- 
fornia partridge  are  here,  but  the  black-breasted 
is  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  the  California  quail  is  found, 
and  Gamble's  blue  partridge. 

I  saw  yesterday  the  most  wonderful  rainbow,  or 
rather  mass  of  prismatic  mist;  a  heavy  thunder- 
storm, one  of  the  most  furious  we  have  encoun- 
tered, took  us  just  as  we  had  left  a  rancho,  formerly 
an  old  Mission,  with  a  very  fine  reservoir  two 
hundred  yards  square,  built  of  stone  and  the 
exhaust  arch  of  brick,  and  we  rode  on  in  drenching 
rain  for  nearly  an  hour.  The  storm  abated  just 
before  sunset,  leaving  all  of  the  west,  below  the 
lifting  clouds,  of  that  indescribable,  furious  red, 
which  follows  such  blows,  and  the  receding  storm 
receiving  the  light  and  blending  into  an  immense 
mass  of  rainbow  haze. 

The  people  here  are  not  at  all  friendly  to  us, 
and  instead  of  having  them  come  out  to  see  us 
at  our  camp,  as  at  other  places,  often  in  such  num- 
bers as  to  be  a  nuisance,  we  find  them  cold,  and 
almost  uncivil.  We  are  not  looked  upon  with  the 
same  interest  as  heretofore,  and  could  neither  buy 
nor  beg  what  we  required  for  our  use.  We,  how- 
ever,  succeeded  with   some   difficulty  in   getting 


Across  the  Mexican  Mountains  145 

good  flour  and  pinole,  at  eight  and  ten  dollars  per 
cargo.  We  had  to  make  a  kiln  and  burn  the  wood 
for  charcoal,  which  we  needed  to  make  horse- 
shoes, and  we  paid  sixty-two  and  a  half  cents  a 
pound  for  the  only  bar  of  iron  we  could  find. 


CHAPTER  V 

THROUGH   ARIZONA  TO  SAN  DIEGO 

September  14th.  Leaving  Altar  on  the  loth  we 
crossed  a  desert-like  plain  or  prairie  for  many 
miles  to  the  Rancho  "La  Sone,"  as  usual  a  miser- 
able cluster  of  mud  jacals  and  surly  Mexican 
vacheros,  but  we  did  not  care  for  that.  We  bought 
and  killed  one  of  their  cattle,  paying  four  dollars 
for  it;  the  next  day  the  seller  returned  and  asked 
seven,  which  we  refused. 

On  the  lagoon  near  here  we  found  the  American 
Avoset,  long-billed  curlew,  and  Canada  crane;  I 
thought  I  saw  the  sandhill,  but  it  was  so  far  oflf 
I  could  not  be  certain;  the  red-shafted  wood- 
pecker is  seen  daily,  and  many  small  birds,  new 
to  me,  but  not  so  abundant  as  two  hundred  miles 
behind  us.  The  soil  of  this  country  is  beautiful 
in  many  places,  but  the  want  of  water  and  timber 
renders  it  difficult  to  live  here;  the  government 
is  feeble,  and  desolation  and  poverty  show  that 
better  days  have  been  seen.  Tomorrow  we  start 
westward  at  4  a.  m.  for  our  march  to  the  Colorado ; 
how  we  shall  get  through  the  twenty  leagues  with 
almost  no  water  or  grass  I  do  not  know,  but  it  must 
be  done. 

Some  of  the  men  hearing  the  rattle  of  the  snake 
of  that  name,  in  a  small  bunch  of  musquit  and 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  147 

cactus,  took  shovels  to  dig  him  out,  and  after  clear- 
ing away  the  brush  soon  found  the  holes  the  snakes 
live  in.  At  about  two  feet  down  they  came  to  a 
tolerably  large  female,  which  had  in  her  nest  nine 
young;  beautiful  little  creatures,  about  a  foot  long; 
they  had  great  courage,  and  coiled  and  struck  with 
fury  at  anything  placed  near  them. 

September  lyth.  Near  Papagos^  villages.  Last 
night,  as  for  many  preceding  evenings,  we  sat  down 
to  our  supper  of  bread  and  water,  our  sugar,  coffee 
and  all  other  matters  culinary  having  been  used 
up,  and  the  country  affords  no  game.  We  all 
felt  the  want  of  coffee  or  meat,  after  being  up  from 
5  a.  m.  to  7  p.  m.,  but  we  shall  I  hope,  soon  be 
through  this  desolate  country.  Four  days  since 
one  of  the  party  killed  the  largest  and  finest  buck 
antelope  I  ever  saw,  and  we  expected  a  treat,  but 
it  was  like  the  meat  of  a  poor  two-year-old  beef, 
hardly  so  good.  We  found  the  horns  of  a  Rocky 
Mountain  sheep,  and  of  the  black-tailed  deer,  but 
none  have  been  killed,  or  even  seen  as  yet. 

The  little  water-holes  we  came  to,  were  filled 
with  animalculae,  and  contained  many  turtles  and 
snakes,  and  a  few  frogs  and  toads.  For  lizards  this 
country  cannot  be  surpassed;  one  little  beauty  with 
a  banded  tail  runs  before  us  and  across  our  path  by 


1  The  Papago  Indians  belonged  to  the  Piman  family,  but 
had  separated  from  the  Pimas  at  the  time  of  their  conversion 
by  the  Spanish  missionaries. 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


dozens.  It  makes  frequent  stops,  and  each  time 
curls  its  tail  on  its  back,  and  waves  it  gently  four  or 
five  times  most  gracefully,  finally  retreating  to 
some  hole  in  the  sand,  or  to  a  thicket  of  cactus 
which  abounds. 

We  have  met  no  Indians  of  the  old  Aztec  race; 
fifty  Papagos  would  count  all  we  have  seen,  and 
they  are  fast  passing  away  judging  from  the  dilap- 
idations of  the  towns,  and  the  numbers  of  empty 
houses.  The  people  live  on  turtles,  and  what  game 
they  can  get.  I  have  seen  some  elk  and  antelope 
skins  dressed  and  terrapin  shells  are  everywhere. 
We  have  bought  two  terrapin  fresh  killed,  some 
roots,  and  the  fruit  of  a  plant  like  the  maguey; 
we  have  seen  one  or  two  fine  horses,  small,  but 
well  formed,  ridden  with  only  a  rope  around  the 
neck;  others  had  saddles;  all  the  men  ride  lightly 
and  well. 

We  came  to  some  of  their  burial  mounds,  and 
saw  the  kettles  and  culinary  articles  of  this  poor 
people  left  for  the  dead,  to  aid  them  on  their 
journey  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds  prepared  for 
them  by  the  Great  Spirit.  They  are  happy  in 
their  faith,  and  with  no  dissenting  voices  about 
this  method  of  salvation  or  that. 

At  one  place  just  after  leaving  the  second  rancho 
of  Papago  Indians  on  September  i8th,  we  crossed 
what  might  certainly  be  called  a  part  of  the  desert. 
Strips  of  red  gravel  a  mile  or  two  long,  and  two 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  149 

or  three  hundred  yards  wide,  were  frequently 
crossed,  and  other  strips  looking  like  dried 
parched-up  white  clay;  the  mountains  are  very 
irregularly  formed,  and  of  a  blackish  stone,  look- 
ing in  the  distance  almost  purple.  I  tried  to  take 
some  sketches,  but  could  not  make  time. 

On  September  19th  I  procured  two  specimens  of 
the  Dipodomys  Phi/lippsii;^  the  red  tail  and  marsh 
hawks  are  abundant,  and  ravens  are  seen,  as  well 
as  buzzards  from  time  to  time.  We  find  many 
mounds  of  the  Dipodomys  Phillippsii,  and  prairie 
dog  or  some  other  marmot,  but  they  are  so  shy 
that  we  have  not  killed  one  yet.  We  picked  up 
yesterday  horns  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  sheep, 
and  the  Papagos  tell  us  they  are  found  in  plenty  in 
the  mountains  around  us. 

September  2Ist.  The  last  village  we  passed  of 
these  Indians  was  situated  on  a  large  prairie  of 
miserably  poor  soil,  sandy  and  dry,  covered  with 
a  peculiar  small-leaved  plant,  containing  a  great 
deal  of  astringent,  gummy  sap ;  we  find  this  only 
on  the  poorest  of  soils  full  of  gravel  and  sand,  and 
always  hail  it  with  dislike,  though  its  taste,  a  little 
of  it,  is  pleasant,  being  slightly  aromatic,  and  yet 
in  some  way  reminding  one  of  baked  apple.  Why 
it  is  that  these  Indians  settle  in  such  country,  I 


^  The  Dipodomys  Phillippsii  is  a  species  of  mouse  provided 
with  a  pouch  and  is  popularly  called  the  pocket  or  kangaroo 
mouse. 


150  Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 

cannot  conceive,  for  even  the  lizards,  in  most 
places  innumerable,  are  scarce  here.  The  Indians 
kill  them  with  a  light  wand,  giving  them  a  dex- 
terous tap  on  the  head ;  they  pick  up  the  game  ( ?) , 
slip  the  head  under  a  belt  or  string  round  their 
waists,  and  when  sufficient  are  collected  a  little 
fire  is  made,  and  this  delicate  repast  is  enjoyed  by 
them,  as  an  epicure  would  relish  his  brace  of 
woodcock. 

I  am  told  that  a  sort  of  mush  is  made  of  grass- 
hoppers which  abound  all  over  the  country,  some 
of  w^hich  are  very  beautiful ;  the  insects  are  caught 
and  dried,  then  pounded,  and  mixed  with  what 
meal  or  "pinole"  they  have;  the  "pinole"  generally 
consists  of  parched  wheat  or  corn,  spiced  and 
pounded,  or  ground  dry  on  the  "metale,"  the  stone 
used  by  the  Mexicans  for  making  the  meal  used 
for  their  tortillas;  the  dish  is  considered  quite  a 
delicacy  by  both  the  Indians  and  Mexicans;  the 
man  who  told  me  this  said  he  had  tasted  it,  found 
it  pleasant,  and  except  for  the  idea,  a  pretty  good 
dish. 

The  horses  of  the  Indians  here  are  very  tolerable 
but  they  are  spoiled  by  being  ridden  too  young. 
They  use  them  steadily  when  two  years  old,  and  I 
saw  even  colts  with  the  hair  of  the  tail  still  curly, 
under  boys  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of  age. 

The  houses  are  cones,  four  or  five  feet  high  and 
eight  to  fifteen  feet  across,  thatched  in  the  rudest 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  151 

manner;  in  front  of  nearly  every  one  however, 
there  is  a  shade,  made  by  planting  four  poles,  and 
erecting  on  these  a  platform,  first  of  sticks  and 
brush,  and  finally  earth  on  which  some  plants  and 
grasses  grow.  I  saw  one  covered  with  a  gourd 
vine  falling  in  festoons  and  strings,  and  bearing 
its  hard  fruit  in  profusion;  the  pleasant  verdure 
looked  very  inviting  as  we  rode  by  in  the  broiling 
sun.  Two  or  three  squaws  were  sitting  under  it, 
on  the  palmetto  mats,  coarsely  made,  occupying 
themselves  with  their  daily  avocations,  some  sewing 
on  thin  cotton  stuff,  some  preparing  the  food.  The 
women  were  generally  large  and  square-faced, 
with  low  foreheads  and  ugly  mouths,  but  fine  eyes ; 
they  are  generally  dark,  and  very  occasionally  a 
fairly  good-looking  girl  is  seen.  We  took  an 
Indian  guide  here,  and  ofifered  him  first  a  dollar  a 
day;  he  took  the  money  and  held  out  his  hands  for 
more ;  two  men  were  with  him,  one  of  whom  asked 
what  else  would  we  give;  he  was  shown  a  half- 
worn  shirt;  again  he  asked  for  more,  a  white  shirt 
was  given  him,  he  looked  at  the  shirts  and  the 
money,  and  pointed  to  a  bright  butcher  knife;  it 
was  given  to  him.  He  gave  a  smile  of  satisfaction, 
jumped  on  his  horse,  which  stood  ready  beside 
him,  pointed  out  the  road,  motioned  ahead  and 
galloped  off  to  his  own  house,  some  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant.  Two  or  three  of  our  party  followed 
him,  myself  among  the  number,  and  saw  him  lay 


1^2  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

his  treasures  down  before  his  father  and  family; 
he  then  put  on  the  worn  red  shirt,  and  with  a  low 
bow  to  all  round  him  followed  our  company. 

After  a  long  and  tedious  ride  over  a  gravelly 
prairie,  with  many  cacti,  musquit  and  wild  sage 
growing  on  it,  we  passed  between  two  ironstone 
mountains,  up  a  valley  to  a  well  of  sulphur  water 
which  was  also  pretty  well  impregnated  with  salt, 
where  all  took  a  drink,  and  going  over  the  next 
ridge  camped  in  poor  grass  and  took  our  animals 
back  to  water  them  at  the  well.  Some  of  the  mules 
drank  five  buckets  of  water,  one  after  the  other 
(the  common  shaker  buckets)  and  the  average 
amount  each  animal  drank  may  be  put  down  at 
three  and  a  half.  The  want  of  water  is  the  greatest 
privation  you  can  give  a  mule,  as  the  flesh  literally 
seems  to  dry  of¥  them,  and  without  water  a  mule 
will  rapidly  fall  off  from  being  a  good-looking 
animal,  to  a  skeleton;  but  good  grass  and  water, 
not  too  salt,  will  in  a  week  restore  them  wonder- 
fully. 

On  our  march  today  we  came  to  a  dry  run,  what 
Pennypacker  calls  "a  thunder-shower  river,"  and 
after  digging  four  feet  found  better  water  than  we 
had  had  for  some  time.  We  were  all  thirsty  and 
drank  of  it  freely.  I  took  two  long  draughts,  and 
in  half  an  hour  was  ready  for  more,  and  the  poor 
mules  had  to  be  kept  away  by  a  guard.  Some  of 
these  "thunder-storm  rivers"  rise  so  rapidly  as  to 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  153' 

surround  camps  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  remove 
the  provisions  and  other  property,  and  I  was  told 
by  some  of  the  parties  we  met  near  the  Gila,  that 
on  the  El  Paso  route  a  party  of  General  Worth's 
train  lost  their  baggage  by  just  such  floods  as  we 
have  to  look  out  for. 

Leaving  this  water-hole  Boggs  and  myself 
walked  to  the  peaks  of  one  of  the  conical  moun- 
tains of  iron-stone,  which  here  surround  the  plains ; 
it  was  bluish-black  with  heavy  dashes  of  purple 
intermingled  for  yards  at  a  time,  and  looked  like 
huge  masses  of  earth  that  had  been  frozen,  and 
were  just  in  the  crumbling  state  which  precedes 
thawing.  The  view  from  the  top  was  very  grand, 
but  all  the  scenes  we  had  as  we  ascended  from  the 
plain  gave  pleasure.  At  first  the  broad  prairie 
stretched  west  as  far  as  the  line  of  horizon;  a  few 
feet  higher  on  the  mountain  enabled  us  to  see  the 
conical  heads  of  others,  and  as  we  went  higher  and 
higher,  we  saw  hill  after  hill,  and  mountain  capped 
mountain,  and  the  straight  line  which  formed  our 
horizon  at  first  was  lost  in  the  irregular  one  of 
peaks  of  the  wildest  character  and  desolation.  As 
we  looked  north  round  the  entire  country  to  north 
again,  our  eyes  surveyed  miles  of  apparently  waste 
barren  country,  without  wood,  water  or  animated 
nature;  one  vulture  alone  sailed  magnificently 
round  us,  surveying  us  from  a  closer  circle  at  every 
whirl  he  made,  his  wings  rustling  as  they  glided 


154  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

past  only  a  few  feet  from  us.  We  admired  his 
grace  and  envied  his  power,  as  we  watched  the  sun 
go  down,  and  fancied  that  just  beyond  the  hills  we 
saw  were  the  waves  of  the  Gulf  of  California.  We 
descended  to  camp  in  the  evening  shadows  and 
made  our  meal  of  bread  and  water  with  good 
appetites. 

September  22d.  I  remained  behind  this  morn- 
ing with  one  of  the  men  to  hunt  up  some  missing 
mules,  so  that  the  main  party  were  some  ten  miles 
on  the  road  ahead,  but  we  overtook  them  at  nine 
that  night,  and  camped  down  without  water  or 
grass. 

September  2^d.  Daylight  saw  us  on  the  march 
again,  and  at  twelve  we  found  good  grass,  and 
halted  for  four  hours,  leaving  at  sundown  for  the 
Gila,  expecting  to  reach  it  by  daylight,  but  our 
mules  were  so  hungry  we  could  not  drive  them, 
and  we  encamped  again  without  grass  or  water. 

September  24th.  At  daylight  again  we  were 
off,  and  one  o'clock  brought  us  to  the  long-looked- 
for  Pimos  Valley,  with  a  rancho  of  one  small  house 
and  a  few  broken-down  mules.  However,  here 
we  found  water  and  a  camp  ground. 

September  2Sth.  Off  again  as  soon  as  light  with 
ourselves  and  animals  somewhat  refreshed  by  a 
long  day's  rest,  plenty  of  corn,  water  and  melons. 
Before  our  arrival  here  we  had  looked  forward 
with  pleasure  to  meeting  others  from  home  travel- 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  155 

ling  our  road,  hoping  to  have  news  of  compara- 
tively late  date,  as  this  valley  is  a  sort  of  rendez- 
vous; but  we  have  no  more  than  we  bring,  we  pass 
and  re-pass  companies  daily,  but  since  we  find  they 
have  no  news  for  us  we  go  on  with  a  single 
salutation. 

As  we  came  unexpectedly  upon  the  wagon  trail 
of  the  Gila  route,  an  exclamation  of  joy  came  from 
almost  every  one,  and  tired  as  we  were  we  jour- 
neyed until  night  in  better  spirits  than  we  had 
been  in  for  some  time.  The  old  chief  of  the 
Pimos  came  out  to  see  us,  and  presented 
letters  from  Col.  Cooke,^  Col.  Graham^  and 
others,     recommending     him     as     honest,     kind 

'  Philip  St.  George  Cooke  (i  809-1 895)  served  under  Kearny 
in  the  conquest  of  New  Mexico,  was  given  command  of  the 
"Mormon  battalion,"  which  had  been  recruited  at  Council 
Bluffs  from  among  the  Nauvoo  refugees,  and  was  sent  from 
Santa  F^  to  reinforce  Kearny  in  California.  The  journal  of 
the  expedition  was  printed  at  the  time  (Senate  ex.  doc.  No.  2, 
special  session,  31st  Cong.)  and  later  in  an  expanded  form  as 
"The  Conquest  of  New  Mexico  and  California"  (New  York, 
1878).  Cooke  commanded  the  federal  troops  during  the 
territorial  troubles  in  Kansas,  served  with  distinction  in  the 
Civil  War  and  was  brevetted  Major  General  at  its  close. 

-  James  Duncan  Graham  was  a  member  of  Long's  first  ex- 
pedition. In  1840  he  was  appointed  commissioner  for  the  sur- 
vey of  the  Maine  boundary  and  did  good  service  in  the  settle- 
ment of  that  controversy.  He  was  for  a  time  principal  astron- 
omer of  the  Mexican  Boundary  Commission,  but  was  recalled, 
on  account  of  disagreements  with  Commissioner  Bartlett,  and 
made  a  separate  report  (Senate  ex.  doc.  No.  121,  ist  session, 
32d  Cong.).  He  reached  the  rank  of  colonel  during  the  Civil 
War  and  died  in  1865.   Mt.  Graham,  Arizona,  bears  his  name. 


156  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

and  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  Americans. 
I  gave  him  three  broken-down  mules,  and  some 
other  trifles  for  which  he  seemed  grateful,  but  the 
extravagance  of  the  Americans  who  have  passed 
through  has  made  it  difficult  for  anyone  to  make 
reasonable  bargains  with  either  Pimos  or  Mari- 
copas;^  we  had  to  give  him  a  fiannel  shirt  for  a 
little  over  a  peck  of  corn,  wheat  or  beans.  Many 
who  came  to  trade  had  already  made  up  their 
minds  only  to  do  so  for  some  particular  article, 
and  in  those  cases  it  was  not  of  the  least  avail  to 
offer  anything  else.  Sometimes  they  would  refuse 
a  flannel  shirt  in  exchange  for  a  couple  of  melons, 
but  by  tearing  the  shirt  into  strips  and  sewing  these 
together,  two  or  three  times  the  value  of  the  gar- 
ment may  be  obtained,  as  they  are  delighted  with 
anything  resembling  a  sash,  or  bands  for  the  head. 
Jewelry  had  no  value  to  them,  fancy  beads  were 
worthless,  stone  beads  however  they  traded  for 
eagerly,  but  we  had  none.  Red  blankets  and  blue, 
red  flannel  torn  into  long  strips  they  preferred  to 
anything,  though  many  of  the  women  chose  white 
shirts;  like  all  squaws  they  are  very  good  natured. 
They  are  dressed  in  a  cotton,  home-made  sarape, 
if  [wearing]  a  garment  fastened  round  the  waist, 
and  leaving  the  whole  upper  part  of  the  body 


'  The  Pima  Indians  were  called  Pimos  in  the  books  of  fifty 
years  ago.  The  Maricopas  belonged  to  the  Yuman  family 
but  had  united  with  the  Pimas  for  protection. 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  157 

exposed,  can  be  called  dressed;  their  hair  is  cut 
square  across  the  forehead,  and  worn  not  very  long. 

We  found  some  weed  in  the  grass  here  very 
injurious  to  our  horses  and  mules.  I  lost  my  mare 
here.  Weed  lost  his,  and  nearly  all  ran  down,  so 
as  to  be  scarcely  fit  for  use.  Having  now  four  men 
without  mounts,  I  was  persuaded  to  buy  a  wagon 
and  harness  complete,  as  I  could  get  one  for  twenty- 
five  dollars. 

The  river  bottom  here  forms  a  great  flat,  which 
was,  I  think,  once  irrigated;  at  all  events,  it  is  cut 
up  by  a  great  many  lagoons,  nearly  all  muddy,  but 
the  water  is  not  so  salt  in  those  that  do  not  run,  as 
to  be  undrinkable;  in  some  places  the  water  is  so 
impregnated  that  as  the  water  evaporates,  a  cake 
of  pure  salt  is  deposited,  and  the  Indians  on  being 
asked  for  it,  brought  us  five  or  six  pounds  in  a 
lump.  It  was  pure  white  when  broken,  but  on  the 
surface  a  sediment  covered  it.  The  country  is 
nearly  flat,  and  on  the  light  sandy  soil  there  is 
found  grass,  in  some  places  very  sparse  and  thin, 
and  in  the  others  pretty  good.  No  water  but  rain 
water,  and  that  at  long  distances  apart.  We  find 
on  the  few  hills  the  columnar  cactus  in  great  abun- 
dance, a  great  many  of  the  same  class  of  plants  as 
on  the  Rio  Grande,  and  convolvuli  without  num- 
ber; they  seem  to  live  on  dew.  The  soil  of  the 
hills  is  rocky,  and  indeed,  sometimes  for  miles, 
chalky  limestone  takes  the  place  of  rock  entirely. 


158  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

October  1st.  The  first  rise  as  we  enter  the  desert 
gives  the  view  of  the  plain  for  a  great  distance, 
and  it  seems  one  vast  waste  of  twenty  by  a  hundred 
miles. 

The  road  is  continuous  clay  and  sand,  so  impreg- 
nated with  salt  and  other  mineral  matter  deleterious 
to  vegetation,  that  sun  flowers  and  salt  grass,  and 
the  accursed  emblem  of  barrenness  and  sterility 
"Larrea  Mexicana,"  [Creosote  plant]  according 
to  Dr.  Trask,  are  all  that  are  seen  in  the  way  of 
herbage.  In  places  the  sunflowers  are  marvel- 
ously  luxuriant,  and  cover  miles  of  the  country, 
and  are  from  five  to  seven  feet  high,  the  road  cut 
through  them  being  the  only  gap  in  their  almost 
solid  ranks. 

The  dust  in  this  road  is  over  the  shoe  tops,  and 
rises  in  clouds,  filling  eyes  and  almost  choking  us 
as  we  trudge  along,  sore  and  jaded  —  men,  horses, 
mules,  cattle.  We  stop  at  night,  after  eight  hours' 
travel,  having  made  only  fifteen  or  twenty  miles; 
often  without  food  except  by  chance,  for  our  ani- 
mals. Grass  is  only  found  in  the  good  bends  of  the 
river,  which  we  may  strike,  or  may  not. 

October  3d.  Left  at  eight  in  the  morning,  and 
rode  fifteen  miles,  where  we  found  water  in  some 
holes;  we  had  noticed  a  very  heavy  rain  yesterday 
in  this  direction,  which  had  probably  filled  them. 
We  rode  on  until  night,  when  we  camped  until  one 
in  the  morning,  when,  by  the  light  of  a  full  moon 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  159 

we  re-packed  and  started  on  for  the  river  which  we 
reached  at  eight  in  the  morning.  Resting  here 
for  four  hours,  we  started  to  make  five  miles  or 
more;  necessity  demanded  our  doing  this  to  arrive 
at  good  grass. 

Passing  along  the  sandy  trail  we  saw  hundreds 
of  the  plumed  partridge  -(the  brown-headed).  I 
shot  five  in  about  ten  minutes.  I  could  not  delay 
longer,  as  my  fast-walking  little  mule  was  too  jaded 
to  put  to  the  pain  of  going  faster  to  catch  up  with 
the  train.  These  birds,  at  this  season,  seem  to  feed 
on  the  seeds  of  the  pig-weed,  which  is  now  and  then 
seen  in  patches  of  many  acres,  putting  one  in  mind 
of  old  potato  fields.  The  sandy  desolation  of  the 
river  bottom  is  beyond  belief;  nothing  but  the  sand 
hills  of  the  Carolina  coast  can  compare  with  it. 

Oct.  §th.  A  few  cotton-woods  and  scrub-willow, 
with  dried  weeds,  and  some  sunflower  plants,  make 
thickets  here  and  there,  and  this  is  all  that  is  to  be 
seen  in  the  way  of  vegetation,  for  about  a  hundred 
miles  below  the  Pimos  villages,  which  hundred 
miles  we  made  in  five  days,  and  are  now,  thanks  to 
a  placard  at  the  forks  of  the  road,  across  the  far- 
famed  Gila,  in  a  grassy  bottom  of  coarse  swamp 
tufts,  which  is  better  than  nothing,  but  our  animals 
do  not  seem  to  like  it  much,  though  they  eat  it,  in 
their  starved  condition. 

The  river  here  is  a  very  rapid  stream  at  this 
season,  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide,  and 


l6o  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

from  eighteen  to  twenty  inches  deep,  with  very- 
deep  holes  in  places.  The  bottom  is  shifting  quick- 
sand, delightfully  varied  with  drift  logs,  put 
exactly  where  they  can  best  trip  up  the  mules;  as 
the  water  is  like  that  of  the  Mississippi,  below  St. 
Louis,  you  never  see  the  logs  until  you  are  over 
them. 

We  look  and  long  for  Gila  trout,  and  wild-fowl, 
but  in  vain.  I  shot  t\vo  blue-wings  and  one  of  our 
men  caught  two  little  trout.  Our  road  is  garnished 
almost  every  league,  with  dead  cattle,  horses  or 
oxen;  and  wagons,  log  chains,  and  many  valuable 
things  are  left  at  almost  every  camping  ground  by 
the  travellers ;  we  ourselves  have  had  to  do  the 
same,  to  relieve  our  worn  and  jaded  mules,  able 
now  to  carry  only  about  a  hundred  pounds.  Our 
personal  effects  amount  to  about  one  change  each, 
with  our  ammunition  and  arms,  all  else  discarded 
or  used  up  or  stolen. 

Opposite  our  camp  about  three  miles  from  us, 
is  a  hot  spring  of  beautifully  clear  water;  it  is  so 
hot  as  to  just  be  bearable  (we  have  now  no  ther- 
mometer)  and  is  tasteless. 

Night  far  on  the  prairie  is  always  solemn,  but 
when  in  a  doubtful  country,  where  one  is  uncertain 
as  to  the  friendliness  of  the  Indians,  our  watch 
became  one  of  silence  and  caution.  We  saw  a 
long  line  of  regularly  placed  fires  burn  up,  and, 
hour  after  hour,  could  see  them  flare  up,  as  fresh 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  i6i 

fuel  was  placed  on  them.  We  had  heard  that 
Captain  Thorn^  with  a  hundred  emigrants  was 
just  behind  us,  and  we  thought  this  might  be  his 
camp ;  but  when  morning  came  and  a  long  line  of 
dark  objects  met  my  eyes  as  I  left  my  tent,  I  won- 
dered if  they  could  be  mules,  so  regular  in  their 
distances  and  march.  I  soon  saw  it  w)as  a  proces- 
sion of  a  hundred  and  fifty  squaws,  each  carrying 
the  provisions  like  a  pack  mule  for  her  husband, 
who,  hero-like,  armed  with  spear,  shield  and  bow, 
proudly  bore  himself  and  his  quiver,  made  of 
wild-cat,  cougar,  or  other  skin,  full  of  arrows, -on 
to  the  wars  of  the  Maricopas  and  Apaches,  so  it  was 
said]  probably  the  object  was  to  assist  the  Yumas 
against  the  Americans.  Of  this  we  had  no  proof, 
for  all  was  quiet,  owing  no  doubt  to  the  good  effect 
produced  by  the  appearance  of  the  Americans,  and 
the  prompt  shooting  of  a  pa^  of  Texans  who  had 
shot  one  or  two  Yumas  Indians  for  not  making  the 
right  landing.  Siich  summary  proceedings  never 
occurred  again.  We  also  heard  that  Lieut.  Coats 
[Couts]^  «aid  that  he  had  been  the  main  cause  of 

1  Herman  Thorn,  soldier  in  the  Mexican  War,  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  battles  of  Churubusco  and  Molino  del 
Rey,  and  was  made  captain.  He  was  drowned  October  16, 
1849,  ^s  stated  later  in  the  text. 

"  Cave  Johnson  Couts,  a  Tennessean  and  West  Pointer,  went 
to  California  in  1848  as  first  lieutenant  of  dragoons  in  Graham's 
battalion.  He  resigned  his  commission  and  married  the  pretty 
daughter  of  a  prominent  Spanish  family  in  185  i,  settled  in  Cali- 
fornia and  acquired  considerable  property,  and  died  in  1874. 


1 62  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

the  favorable  change  in  the  Indians  towards  the 
Americans,  especially  on  the  part  of  the  Yumas. 
We  saw  many  of  this  tribe  riding  their  horses  wMth 
ropes  in  the  animals'  mouths,  pads  for  saddles,  and 
ropes  around  the  bodies  in  which  they  can  slip 
their  feet. 

October  14th.  Sixteen  days  of  travel  from  the 
Pimos  village  and  such  travel^  as  please  God,  I 
trust  we  may  none  of  us  ever  see  again,  brought 
us  to  within  three  miles  of  the  Gila.^  If  we 
thought  ourselves  badly  ofif  at  Altar,  we  are  much 
more  reduced  in  every  way  than  we  were  there. 
The  food  poor,  monotonous  and  inefficient  has  been 
forced  down,  simply  to  sustain  life.  We  have 
lost  more  mules,  of  course;  our  wagon  delayed 
us  at  least  ten  miles  a  day,  and  we  left  it  after 
using  it  three  days.  We  were  on  the  "qui  vive" 
for  Indians  all  the  time.  Lack  of  water  and  grass 
we  have  almost  come  to  regard  as  inevitable;  truly 
we  looked,  and  are,  a  forlorn  spectacle,  and  we 
feel,  I  am  sure,  worse  than  we  look. 

*  Audubon  returned  to  the  Gila  at  the  point  of  its  junction 
with  the  Colorado.  The  usual  emigrant  road  either  kept  to 
the  south  of  the  Gila  or  crossed  the  river  at  the  bend  and  re- 
crossed  it  sometime  before  coming  to  the  Colorado.  Audu- 
bon must  either  have  kept  to  the  north  of  the  river  or  omitted 
to  mention  the  recrossing.  The  crossing  of  the  Colorado  was 
just  below  the  mouth  of  the  Gila.  Lieut.  Whipple  was  mak- 
ing observations  at  this  point  at  this  time.  Fort  Yuma  was 
established  here  in  1852,  opposite  the  present  town  of  Yuma. 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  163' 

With  all  this  there  has  been  no  useless  com- 
plaining, no  murmuring,  and  with  all  our  priva- 
tions, greater  than  I  care  to  enumerate,  or  even 
to  think  about,  we  are  none  of  us  ill,  though  a  good 
many  feel  the  effects  of  their  hardships,  and  are 
weakened  by  them.  John  Stevens  walked  all  the 
way  from  the  last  Pimos  village,  and  declares  he 
never  felt  better;  Henry  Mallory,  Bob  Layton 
and  I  have  done  almost  as  much  walking  and  are 
perfectly  well. 

All  along  the  road  we  have  been  told  we  could 
trade  with  the  Yumas  here,  but  a  few  pumpkins 
seemed  to  be  all  they  had  at  this  season,  and,  as 
our  provisions  were  at  the  lowest  ebb,  we  left  for 
the  crossing  of  the  Colorado. 

We  had  the  use  of  a  boat  in  the  crossing,  which 
belonged  to  a  Mr.  Harris  who  came  from  Texas, 
near  Houston.  It  was  really  a  large  wagon  body, 
made  into  a  scow,  and  very  useful  we  found  it; 
Mr.  Harris  treated  us  with  the  greatest  kindness, 
and  aided  us  with  provisions  to  the  best  of  his 
abilities,  and  we  most  sincerely  wished  him  and 
his  amiable  wife  all  happiness  and  comfort. 

We  found  Lieut.  Com.  Coats  most  kind  and 
hospitable;  with  the  aid  of  his  sergeant's  boat,  a 
wagon  body  caulked,  we  crossed  with  everything, 
in  two  days.  I  found  the  Indians,  who  swam  our 
mules,  the  fastest  and  most  powerful  swimmers  I 
ever  saw,  being  able  to  swim  round  the  horses  and 


164  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

guide  them  with  readiness  and  facility  that  aston- 
ished us  all ;  they  swim  over-handed.  I  could  find 
no  one  willing  to  sell  or  trade  horses,  and  we  are 
about  to  start  on  this  much-heard-of  and  much- 
dreaded  desert,  having  lost  two  mules  which  were 
drowned  after  the  company  had  crossed;  they 
returned  to  drink,  and  losing  footing  could  not 
regain  it,  and  had  not  sufficient  strength  to  battle 
against  the  current. 

Last  evening  I  was  invited  to  take  supper  with 
Lieut.  Coats,  which  I  greatly  enjoyed,  for  seldom 
have  I  eaten  with  such  an  appetite,  and  I  found  the 
beefsteak  excellent,  after  being  without  meat  for 
so  long  a  time;  for  some  weeks  we  have  had  noth- 
ing but  an  occasional  partridge;  meat,  in  the 
accepted  sense  of  the  word,  we  had  only  eaten  twice 
since  we  left  Altar,  September  12th,  to  date, 
October  i6th,  living  on  beans,  a  little  rice,  and  as 
luck  would  have  it,  sixteen  pounds  of  flour  we 
bought  from  Mr.  Stephenson  at  the  hot  springs. 
Lieut.  Engineer  Whipple,^  now  making  observa- 

1  Amiel  W.  Whipple,  at  this  time  heutenant  of  topograph- 
ical engineers,  later  made  one  of  the  principal  Pacific  Rail- 
road surveys,  and  died  a  major  general  in  1863  from  wounds 
received  at  Chancellorsville.  The  journal  of  his  expedition 
from  San  Diego  to  the  Colorado  was  printed  as  Senate  ex.  doc. 
No.  19,  2d  session,  3Tst  Cong.  The  entry  for  October  15th, 
1849,  reads  as  follows: 

"Arrived  Colonel  Collyer,  collector  of  the  port  of  San 
Francisco,  escorted  by  Captain  Thorne  with  thirty  dragoons. 
Under  their  protection    is    also    a  party  of  emigrants,  com- 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  165 


tions  at  the  junction  of  the  Gila  and  Colorado 
rivers,  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  this  evening  Col. 
Thorn  came  up  with  us;  we  had  been  expecting 
this  for  some  time.  Col.  Collins  [Collier],  the 
collector  from  San  Francisco  treated  us  with  great 
courtesy,  and  I  shall  reluctantly  bid  these  gentlemen 
good-bye,  and  start  across  the  desert  with  forty- 
six  men  half  mounted,  one  quarter  the  rations  we 
should  have  had,  mules  jaded,  but  the  men,  thank 
God,  all  in  good  health. 

October  lyth.  We  went  only  two  miles  to  our 
first  camp,  but  today  came  twelve  up  the  river, 
through  a  cotton-wood  bottom;  on  the  road  we 
heard  that  Captain  Thorn  had  been  drowned. 
The  canoe  in  which  he  was  making  his  last  trip, 
was  capsized,  and  one  of  the  Mexicans,  who  could 
not  swim,  seized  him  in  such  a  manner  that  he 
could  not  shake  him  ofif,  nor  hold  him  so  as  to  save 
him,  and  they  went  down  together.  So  ends  the 
life  of  an  officer  of  distinction,  whose  quiet,  gentle- 
manly manner  won  from  me  my  admiration  and 
good-fellowship  during  the  few  hours  of  inter- 
course we  had  enjoyed. 

We  passed  one  or  two  Indian  huts,  all  Yumas; 
they  were  scarcely  friendly,  and  our  trading  was 
very  limited.     I  saw  three  about  to  cross  the  river, 

manded  by  Mr.  Audubon,  the  younger,  naturalist ;  Lieutenant 
Browning,  of  the  navy;  Mr.  Langdon  Haven,  and  a  son  of 
Commodore  Sloat,  were  with  this  party,  which  was  suffering 
for  the  want  of  provisions." 


1 66  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

here  like  the  Ohio  when  it  has  low  banks,  but 
muddy.  They  had  a  float  of  dried  rushes  on  which 
they  put  their  few  garments;  the  two  men  stripped 
without  hesitation,  but  the  squaw  seemed  a  good 
deal  put  out  at  our  presence;  she  commenced 
undoing  her  sarape  two  or  three  times;  eventually 
with  a  laugh  and  joke  with  her  companions,  she 
waded  into  the  muddy  stream  until  the  water 
nearly  touched  her  garment,  and  then  with  great 
rapidity  and  grace  removed  it,  the  same  instant 
sinking  into  the  water  so  quickly,  that  her  person 
was  not  in  the  least  exposed ;  and  she  swam  the  river 
fully  as  rapidly  as  her  associates, 

October  l8th.  We  encamped  a  few  miles 
further  on  with  nothing  for  our  horses,  and  morn- 
ing saw  us  tramping  over  dust  and  sand,  to  the 
sand  hills  twelve  miles  distant.  When  we  reached 
them,  I  mounted  one  of  them  to  see  how  our  road 
lay;  immediately  the  rolling  sand  hills  of  the 
Carolina  coasts  were  brought  to  mind;  there  was 
not  a  tree  to  be  seen,  nor  the  least  sign  of  vegeta- 
tion, and  the  sun  pouring  down  on  us  made  our 
journey  seem  twice  the  length  it  really  was. 

\No  date.']  We  encamped  at  the  wells  [Cooke's 
Wells],  and  started  out  at  two  in  the  morning  to  go 
thirty-six  miles  to  the  next  grass,  having  given  our 
animals  a  good  feed  of  musquit  beans,  which  we 
found  in  great  abundance,  about  five  miles  below 
us.     We  went  on  well  until  we  came  to  the  lagoons. 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  167 

and  truly  here  was  a  scene  of  desolation.  Broken 
wagons,  dead  shrivelled-up  cattle,  horses  and  mules 
as  well,  lay  baking  in  the  sun,  around  the  dried-up 
wells  that  had  been  opened,  in  the  hopes  of  getting 
water.  Not  a  blade  of  grass  or  green  thing  of  any 
kind  relieved  the  monotony  of  the  parched,  ash- 
colored  earth,  and  the  most  melancholy  scene  pre- 
sented itself  that  I  have  seen  since  I  left  the  Rio 
Grande. 

We  turned  to  our  road  at  twelve  o'clock,  the 
sun  blazing  down  on  us,  and  expecting  to  go  nine 
miles  more  without  water;  I  feared  the  mules 
would  never  do  it,  but  about  two  miles  further  on, 
we  came  to  good  water,  and  after  a  short  rest  on 
we  went  for  seven  more,  when  we  found  shade, 
and  a  good  supper,  for  the  Sergeant's  guard  here 
had  killed  a  wild  cow,  and  made  us  a  present  of 
part  of  it.  The  thirty-six  miles  had  been  made, 
and  the  worst  part  of  the  road  was  past. 

[No  date.']  Here  we  stayed  one  day  to  wait  for 
some  of  our  party,  who  had  waited  hoping  to  pur- 
chase provisions;  they  were  sorely  jaded,  but  had 
not  lost  a  mule  when  they  re-joined  us.  Leaving 
them  to  rest,  I  went  to  Col.  Collins'  camp  for  fifty 
pounds  of  biscuit  and  some  rice,  and  we  then  took 
the  way  west,  for  the  next  water-hole,  our  horses 
loaded  with  grass ;  which  as  it  had  been  good,  we 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  secure  before  we 
started  at  four  o'clock. 


i68  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

\No  date.']  We  camped  at  a  pretty  lake,  shal- 
low but  clear,  and  good  to  drink;  at  the  back  was 
one  of  those  peculiar  rocky  mountains  so  common 
in  this  country,  and  I  made  an  outline  of  it.  Some 
wagoners  killed  an  ox,  but  to  me  it  was  uneatable, 
so  I  turned  in  as  usual,  on  bread  and  beans,  and  the 
luxury  of  a  cup  of  tea.  Bachman  lost  his  mules 
here,  and  he  and  Walsh  stayed  until  daylight,  the 
rest  of  us  leaving  much  earlier.  I  have  felt  rather 
anxious  about  Bachman  as  he  is  not  strong. 

October  23d.  San  Felipe}  Three  days  of 
sunny  road,  and  three  nights  of  freezing  cold,  have 
brought  us  to  San  Felipe,  and  a  pretty  valley  it  is, 
but  no  water,  and  no  wood  of  any  consequence,  still 
there  is  enough  for  travellers'  purposes,  and  the 
sight  of  the  trees  gave  us  great  pleasure,  after  the 
dearth  of  vegetation  through  which  we  have  been 
passing.  We  find  no  food  here,  and  most  of  the 
company  have  gone  to  Santa  Isabella,  a  rancho 
fifteen  miles  distant,  where  they  expect  to  get  all 
we  want. 

San  Felipe.  October  24th.  My  own  mules 
having  been  more  heavily  laden  than  the  average, 

*  The  Indian  village  of"  San  Felipe  has  disappeared  from 
the  modern  map  but  the  name  is  borne  by  a  creek  in  this 
valley.  The  journey  from  the  Colorado  to  San  Diego  is 
described  in  Bartlctt's  Personal  Narrative.,  and  the  itinerary  is 
given  in  Marcy's  Prairie  Traveler  (New  York,  1859).  An 
edition  of  the  latter  book,  disguised  as  Burton's  Handbook  of 
Overland  Expeditions.,  was  issued  in  London  in   1863. 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  169 

were  very  tired,  and  I  have  stayed  here,  leaving 
Mess  6,  consisting  of  Joseph  Lambert,  Ayres,  Weed 
and  Steele  five  miles  behind  to  wait  for  Bachman 
and  Walsh.  The  rest  started  with  John  Stevens 
in  charge,  for  Santa  Isabella.  I  ascended  the  first 
hill,  and  had  a  view  of  the  long  rows  of  cotton- 
woods  bordering  the  irrigating  ditches  of  the  once 
highly  cultivated,  but  now  deserted.  Mission 
grounds.  Desolation  reigned  everywhere,  decayed 
stumps  of  gigantic  trees  planted  by  hand,  indica- 
tions of  shrines,  from  the  clumps  of  beautiful 
cedars  by  which  they  are  so  frequently  surrounded, 
and  other  tokens  of  industry,  told  of  the  comfort 
that  had  formerly  been  enjoyed  in  this  lovely 
valley.  The  hills  to  the  east  are  all  bare,  but  those 
to  the  west  have  many  beautiful  live  oaks,  running 
up  the  deep  ravines  that  are  between  each  sharp 
ridge. 

[No  date.]  As  we  rode  up  the  valley,  entering 
the  mountains,  the  contrast  between  the  scene 
before  us,  and  the  desert  we  had  just  left,  was  like 
coming  into  Paradise,  and  we  trotted  along  the 
banks  of  a  clear  little  brook,  and  sauntered  on 
through  patches  of  wild  sage  and  wild  oats,  the 
first  we  had  seen,  with  real  pleasure.  As  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  one  of  those  beautiful 
natural  parks,  to  be  seen  only  in  our  southern 
latitudeSjWas  before  us,  and  we  had  the  first  glimpse 


170  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

of  what  might  be  called  California;  the  pleasure  I 
felt  then  is  and  will  be  a  lasting  one. 

Passing  the  dividing  line,  we  began  our  descent 
following  another  stream,  adorned  on  both  sides 
with  the  most  magnificent  California  oaks  and 
sycamores ;  not  so  excessively  large,  but  of  splendid 
form  and  broad  spreading  shade  and  foliage,  in 
full  tropical  luxuriance.  At  sundown,  far  down 
the  valley  of  Santa  Maria,  we  rejoined  our  camp, 
and  found  all  well,  and  Mr.  Browning  treated  me 
to  a  pound  or  two  of  most  delicious  grapes.  They 
tasted  so  refreshing  and  delicious,  that  for  a  few 
minutes  I  forgot  everything  else,  all  my  anxieties 
for  the  termination  of  our  long  and  tedious  journey, 
with  the  attendant  troubles  and  difficulties  seemed 
smoothed  over. 

\_No  date.]  We  arrived  today  at  Santa  Maria 
itself,  twenty  miles  further  on  our  way,  really 
enjoying  our  march  through  this  beautiful  valley. 

San  Diego  Mission.  November  jd.  We  spent 
the  night  at  Santa  Maria  and  then  left  for  San 
Diego;  the  country  contains  many  lovely  valleys, 
and  some  of  the  hills  are  beautiful,  and  richly 
covered  with  wild  oats,  possessing  all  but  water 
and  wood  to  make  it  a  most  desirable  land  for  the 
farmer.  At  sundown  we  reached  the  Mission  of 
San   Diego,^  once  evidently  beautiful   and   com- 

^  Charles  Franklin  Carter's  Amissions  of  Nueva  California 
(San  Francisco,  1900),  gives  a  good  description  of  the  present 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  171 

fortable;  its  gardens  still  contain  many  palms, 
olives  and  grapes,  and  no  doubt  the  plain  below, 
when  irrigated,  must  have  been  most  productive. 

We  found  an  American  soldier  in  charge,  and 
as  the  last  reflection  of  sunlight  tipped  the  waves  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean  with  gold,  and  the  sullen  roar 
of  the  breakers  borne  in  on  the  last  of  the  sea  breeze 
for  that  day  came  to  my  ears,  tired  and  sad,  I  sat 
on  the  tiled  edge  of  the  long  piazza  leaning  against 
one  of  the  brick  pillars  in  a  most  melancholy  mood. 
I  could  remain  here  a  long  time  musing  on  what 
is  before  me,  realizing  in  the  desertion  of  all  about 
me  that  all  things  mortal  pass,  but  it  is  necessary  to 
continue  our  journey,  as  we  are  six  miles  from 
anything  to  eat,  and  we  know  that  two  long  hours 
will  be  requisite  to  get  over  the  distance;  so  we 
must  go. 

San  Diego.  November  4th.  Mr.  Browning  on 
his  fine  horse  "Ures"  led  the  way,  and  I  came 
close  at  his  heels  on  my  favorite  mule.  Nine 
o'clock  brought  us  to  this  town ;  no  hotel  nor  board- 
ing house,  so  we  went  to  the  quartermaster,  Lieut. 


condition  of  the  mission  buildings  of  California.  Under  the 
inspiration  of  Charles  F.  Lummis,  the  "Landmarks  Club"  of 
Los  Angeles  has  undertaken  the  work  of  repairing  and  pre- 
serving their  ruins.  See  also  Missions  of  California^  by  Laura 
Bride  Powers,  (New  York,  1897)  ^"^  ^"  ^"^  ^"^  of  the  Old 
Missions  of  California^  by  George  Wharton  James  (Boston, 
1905). 


172  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Murray/  to  leave  our  things  and  find  a  place  to 
put  our  horses.  He  received  us  most  kindly,  his 
wife  setting  before  us  some  excellent  venison,  and 
the  first  real  bread  and  butter  we  had  seen  since  we 
left  New  Orleans,  to  all  of  which  we  did  complete 
justice.  The  Lieutenant  apologized  for  not  giv- 
ing me  a  bed,  following  this  up  by  the  presenta- 
tion of  a  pillow,  and  regrets  that  he  could  do  noth- 
ing better  than  this  and  his  floor.  I  had  my 
blankets  and  was  soon  comfortably  asleep  under 
the  first  roof  I  had  slept  under  since  we  departed 
from  Jesus  Maria. 

Lieut.  Ord^  lay  next  me,  and  this  morning  left 
for  the  steamer  bound  for  San  Francisco,  and  I 
went  to  the  office  for  letters,  but  found  none,  so  set 
to  work  to  get  provisions  ready  for  the  company. 

Five  miles  from  San  Diego  is  the  bay,  beautiful 
enough  on  one  side,  but  opposite  are  long  islands  of 
flat  land,  and  the  view  ends  in  distant  hills  far 
below,  no  doubt  the  coast  line.  Here  I  sav>^  many 
old  acquaintances  among  the  birds,  the  brown  peli- 
can wheels  and  plunges  for  his  prey,  as  on  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  terns,  curlews  (the  long-billed), 


1  Edward  Murray,  at  this  time  a  lieutenant,  resigned  from 
the  service  in  1855,  and  was  afterwards  an  officer  in  the  Con- 
federate army. 

2  Edward  O.  C.  Ord  (18 18-1883),  at  this  time  a  first  lieu- 
tenant, later  a  major  general  in  the  Civil  War.  His  long  and 
distinguished  service  gives  his  name  a  place  in  every  Ameri- 
can cyclopaedia  and  biographical  dictionary. 


Through  Arizona  to  San  Diego  173' 

the  California  black-bellied  plover,  and  great  num- 
bers of  the  horned  grebe.  I  killed  two  of  them, 
and  left  them  with  Mr.  Murray,  as  I  carried  my 
gun  when  I  went  to  the  fort  for  our  provisions, 
which  were  stored  in  old  hide  warehouses.  The 
traffic  in  hides  and  jerked  beef  has  been  for  many 
years  the  great  industry  at  this  place. 

I  rode  on  to  our  camp  in  the  rain,  the  first  we 
had  had  for  some  weeks,  and  though  now  cold, 
and  chilling  us  to  the  bone,  we  would  have  given 
worlds  for  it  a  short  time  previously,  whilst  cross- 
ing the  dreary  desert. 


CHAPTER  VI 

CALIFORNIA    FROM    SAN    DIEGO   TO   SAN    FRANCISCO 

San  Diego.  Novetnber  6,  184Q.  We  started  for 
Los  Angeles  at  ten  this  morning,  leaving  behind 
Havens,  Sloat,  Watkinson,  Lee,  Snider,  Perry,  Dr. 
Trask,  Steele,  Bachman,  Stevens  and  Cree,  to  fol- 
low by  boat;  Cree  remained  at  my  request  to  take 
care  of  Stevens,  who  is  seriously  ill,  and  Bach- 
man is  not  strong  enough  to  march  further. 

The  road  from  San  Diego  is  a  pleasant  one; 
northwest  over  a  few  moderate  hills  brings  the 
traveller  to  the  edge  of  a  large  bay,  which  from 
its  appearance  seems  to  be  shallow;  to  the  west, 
mountains,  not  the  Coast  Range,  and  a  few  miles 
along  this  bay,  a  beautiful  "hollow"  rather  than 
valley,  opens,  and  after  six  or  eight  miles  leads  to 
some  steep  and  disagreeable  hills,  where  our  first 
night  from  San  Diego  will  be  passed.  I  did  not 
regret  leaving  San  Diego,  except  for  the  kindness 
received  there  (it  is  a  miserable  Mexican  town) 
and  our  own  rather  forlorn  condition.  About  forty 
men  continue  with  me,  half  of  us  on  foot,  the  other 
half  scarcely  much  better,  as  our  animals  are  woe- 
fully jaded,  but  we  could  not  stop,  for  we  are  even 
worse  off  for  funds  than  for  mounts,  as  we  have 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  175 

only  about  four  hundred  dollars,  for  all  our 
expenses,  for  over  six  hundred  miles.  But  our  out- 
lay will  be  small,  for  with  all  the  assistance  of  the 
officers,  which  has  been  most  liberally  given,  we 
have  only  secured  half  rations  of  flour  and  pork; 
we  are  so  accustomed  to  doing  without  sugar  and 
coffee,  that  we  scarcely  care  for  it. 

November  Jth.  We  were  off  at  daylight 
according  to  custom,  and  followed  the  trail  over 
hill  and  hollow,  with  an  occasional  valley.  At 
times  the  ocean  was  in  full  view,  its  soft  blue  hori- 
zon line  melting  into  the  clear,  cloudless  sky.  To 
our  right,  high  over  the  Mission  of  St.  Louis  del 
Rey,  smiled,  glistening  in  snowy  purity,  the  highest 
peaks  of  the  Snowy  Mountains,  Sierra  Nevada. 
The  soil  is  black  loam,  and  the  bottoms  still 
blacker,  but  on  this  day's  travel  much  of  the  soil 
has  been  salt. 

Seeing  a  few  ducks  alight  at  a  little  lake,  almost 
like  a  running  stream,  I  went  after  them,  and  found 
some  hundreds  of  gadwalls,  and  bald-pates,  and 
in  half  an  hour  had  sufficient  for  all  our  company, 
which  I  need  not  tell  3^ou  we  enjoyed,  though  not 
cooked  at  Baltimore  "a  la  Canvasback." 

Hundreds  of  California  marmots  are  seen  daily, 
at  a  distance  looking  like  a  common  squirrel,  so 
much  so  that  the  men  all  call  them  squirrels;  their 
color  varies  very  much,  being  every  shade  of  grey 
and  reddish  brown. 


176  Audubon's  fFestern  Journal 

The  Mission  of  Luis  Rey/  as  it  is  now  called, 
now  in  the  possession  of  the  Americans,  is  kept  by 
an  old  Mexican;  it  presents,  as  you  get  the  first 
view  of  it  going  north,  one  of  the  most  impressive 
scenes  I  can  recall ;  its  long  row  of  low,  but  regular 
arches,  the  fagade  whitewashed,  and  the  church 
at  the  east  end,  with  many  outlying  buildings 
covered  with  red  tiles,  the  whole  standing  in  a 
broad  valley  running  eastward  for  miles,  until  the 
view  ends  in  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
compels  the  traveller  to  pause  and  to  admire. 

As  we  stood  looking  at  all  this,  from  a  hill  higher 
than  the  one  on  which  we  were,  swooped  a  Califor- 
nia vulture,  coming  towards  us  until,  at  about  fifty 
yards,  having  satisfied  his  curiosity,  though  not 
mine,  he  rose  in  majestic  circles  high  above  us,  and 
with  a  sudden  dash  took  a  straight  line,  somewhat 
inclining  downwards,  towards  the  mountains 
across  the  valley  and  was  lost  to  sight,  from  actual 
distance. 

The  garden  of  the  Mission  has  been  beautiful, 
and  we  found  it  still  well  stocked  with  vines,  olives, 
figs,  etc.,  but  the  same  desolation  is  visible  every- 
where through  this  country  of  splendid  soil,  which 
here  is  rather  sandy.  There  is  still  lack  of  wood 
and  water,  irrigation  has  been  universal. 

^  San  Luis  Rey  was  reoccupied  and  a  Franciscan  college 
established  there  in    1893. 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  177 

The  Missions  seem  to  have  been  divided  into  the 
residence,  with  beautiful  gardens,  the  church,  the 
stock  farm  and  the  grain-growing  lands,  and  all 
have  possessed  much  comfort  if  not  considerable 
wealth.  Naturally  those  who  lived  in  them  wished 
to  isolate  themselves  from  the  world,  and  to  sur- 
render the  pleasures  and  ambitions  found  there, 
for  the  advancement  of  their  religion,  or,  at  least, 
were  willing  to  do  so. 

November  Qth.  I  have  already  seen  the  nucleus 
of  an  American  rancho,  in  this  country,  which  is 
lonely  rather  than  desolate.  We  have  passed 
many  fine  old  Missions,  at  least  six  or  seven,  but 
though  in  the  midst  of  beautiful  land,  with  hun- 
dreds of  horses  and  cattle,  and  many  herds  of  sheep 
and  goats,  the  indolence  of  the  people  has  left  all 
decaying,  and  they  live  in  dirt  and  ignorance,  and 
merely  vegetate  away  this  life  in  listlessness,  except 
for  the  occasional  excitement  of  a  trade  in  horses, 
or  a  game  of  monte.  We  have  had  many  melons, 
late  in  the  season  as  we  are;  they  are  pulled  and 
put  up  as  the  French  do  pears,  and  keep  fresh  for 
many  weeks. 

All  the  people  here  ride  well,  and  fast,  many 
without  saddles;  these  latter  tie  a  rope,  or  if  they 
have  it,  a  surcingle,  buckle  that  around  the  body 
of  the  horse,  and  stick  both  knees  under  it,  so  that 
it  is  a  great  assistance  to  them.  The  gallop  is  the 
usual  gait  at  which  they  travel.     The  continual 


178  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

absence  of  wood  gives  an  appearance  to  all  the 
hills,  of  old  fields,  but  many  of  the  valleys  are 
truly  beautiful;  fine  sycamores,  oaks  and  cotton- 
woods  along  the  water  making  everything  look 
refreshing  to  a  degree  that  none  can  realize  but 
those  who  have  been  for  weeks  exposed  to  sun  and 
rain,  keen  winds  and  cold  nights,  without  woods 
for  shelter  or  fire;  in  cooking  we  have  often  had 
to  keep  up  a  fire  with  weeds,  some  men  attending 
to  this,  while  the  others  fried  our  meat,  made 
coffee,  and  what  we  called  bread. 

Los  Angeles.  This  "city  of  the  angels"  is  any- 
thing else,  unless  the  angels  are  fallen  ones.  An 
antiquated,  dilapidated  air  pervades  all,  but 
Americans  are  pouring  in,  and  in  a  few  years  will 
make  a  beautiful  place  of  it.  It  is  well  watered  by 
a  pretty  little  river,  led  off  in  irrigating  ditches 
like  those  at  San  Antonio  de  Bexar.  The  whole 
to\vn  is  surrounded  to  the  south  with  very  luxuriant 
vines,  and  the  grapes  are  quite  delightful;  we 
parted  from  them  with  great  regret,  as  fruit  is  such 
a  luxury  to  us.  Many  of  the  men  took  bushels, 
and  only  paid  small  sums  for  them. 

The  hills  to  the  north  command  the  whole  town, 
and  will  be  the  place  for  the  garrison. 

San  Pedro,  twenty-seven  miles  south-west,  is  the 
port,  and  is  said  to  have  a  good  harbor.  All  the 
country  round  is  rolling,  and  in  many  places  almost 
mountainous.     Before  you  get  to  the  Coast  Range 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  179 

the  soil  is  most  of  it  very  good,  and  the  cattle  are 
fine;  wild  mustard  grows  everywhere,  to  the 
height  of  five  feet  or  more;  in  the  richest  soil 
attaining  seven  and  eight  feet,  and  we  have  twice 
cooked  our  meal  with  no  fuel  but  the  stalks  of  this 
weed. 

We  have  had  great  trouble  with  our  mules  for 
want  of  grass,  and  the  poor  things  wandered  miles, 
and  we  lost  some  few,  and  had  difficulty  in  getting 
the  others.  After  long  consultations  we  decided 
to  divide,  eleven  of  us  to  bring  on  the  mules  and 
take  the  valley  of  the  Tulare  for  our  route;  the 
rest  of  the  company  under  Henry  Mallory  going 
up  in  the  barque  Hector  for  thirty  dollars  each,  as 
our  mules  are  utterly  broken  down,  and  we  want 
to  get  them  through  to  San  Francisco  if  we  can. 
So  much  for  our  splendid  outfit,  so  much  for  the 
plans  of  our  Military  Commander.  But  let  it  pass, 
and  I  will  try  to  describe  our  route. 

[No  date.]  Leaving  Los  Angeles  at  one  o'clock, 
with  forty-six  mules  and  ten  men,  I  making  the 
eleventh,  and  two  of  the  number  being  my  true 
friends  Browning  and  Simson,  we  passed  eastward 
of  the  town,  and  followed  the  little  river  of  the 
same  name,  and  camped  on  the  best  grass  we  had 
had,  and  with  so  good  a  beginning,  expected  to 
have  the  same  for  our  poor  animals  for  the  rest  of 
our  journey,  and  in  some  degree  recruit  them  and 
heal  their  sore  backs. 


i8o  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

[No  date.]  Today  our  ride  of  about  eighteen 
miles  was  over  a  plain  of  rather  poor  soil,  and  we 
found  the  rancho;  it  was  formerly  the  Mission  of 
San  Fernando.^  Like  most  of  the  others,  it  has  a 
long  portico  and  arches;  a  few  pictures  of  the 
Virgin  and  some  images  of  the  saints  are  still 
standing,  but,  from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  they 
are  poor  trash.  The  garden  is  still  most  luxuriant, 
and  many  grapes  are  grown  here,  and  wine  made, 
as  well  as  other  liquors  distilled.  It  looked  like 
sacrilege  to  me  to  see  the  uses  made  of  sacred  places 
but  so  the  changes  appear  to  be  in  these  countries; 
dilapidation  immediately  follows  the  removal  of 
the  priests.  Great  dislike  was  manifested  to  the 
Americans  here,  and  they  would  neither  give  nor 
sell  any  of  the  fruits  they  had  in  such  abundance, 
grapes  and  melons  wasting  on  the  ground. 

Leaving  this  rancho  we  camped  five  miles 
further  on  our  way,  up  an  arroyo,  in  tall,  rush-like 
grass,  where  we  had  only  bad  water,  being  so 
charged  with  sulphur  and  various  salts  as  to  be 
undrinkable.  The  hills  are  of  a  friable,  whitish 
clay  and  sandstone,  and  after  a  very  steep  ascent, 
we  gradually  descended  into  a  beautiful  valley  to 
the  rancho  San  Francisco,  and  encamped  in  sight 
of  it  with  good  w'ater,  and  plenty  of  wood.     In  the 

1  San  Fernando  is,  of  all  the  missions  of  California,  in  the 
best  condition.  Its  two  principal  buildings  are  in  a  good 
state  of  preservation  and  the  church  has  been  re-roofed  by  the 
"Landmarks  Club." 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco 


morning  Rhoades  killed  the  first  black-tailed  deer 
that  any  of  the  party  has  secured.  We  found  it 
very  good  meat,  and  quite  enjoyed  it,  after  the 
continuance  of  beef  we  have  had  since  our  arrival 
on  this  side  of  the  great  divide,  as  at  the  rancho  we 
can  usually  buy  fine,  young  cattle  for  from  eight  to 
tv/elve  dollars. 

[No  date.]  We  now  commenced  the  regular 
ascent  of  the  Coast  Range,  the  mountains  at  first 
were  sandy  loam  and  sandstone;  we  had  no  grand 
views,  even  of  distance,  and  we  lost  two  of  our 
mules  from  fatigue.  Our  descent  was  rapid  for 
some  miles,  and  brought  us  to  the  gorge  leading  to 
the  dividing  ridge,  where  was  a  rapid  torrent, 
about  up  to  our  knees,  and  as  we  followed  it  scenes 
of  the  wildest  description  presented  themselves. 
Sometimes  it  looked  as  if  our  further  progress  was 
completely  at  an  end,  and  again  a  turn  at  right 
angles  showed  us  half  a  mile  more  of  our  road. 
The  rocks  here  are  shelly  sandstone,  looking  at 
first  sight,  at  a  distance,  like  slate.  The  tops  of  all 
the  mountains  are  covered  with  snow,  and  the  wind 
from  the  northwest  was  blowing  so  hard  as  to  bring 
our  tired  mules  to  a  standstill,  as  the  pufifs  struck 
them. 

As  we  came  out  into  the  plain  or  valley  a  few 
squalls  of  hail  and  rain  came  on,  and  we  were  glad 
to  camp  near  some  cottonwoods,  not  deeming  it 
prudent  to  be   under  them,   as   their   limbs   had 


Audubo7i's  Western  Journal 


already,  some  of  them,  yielded  to  the  mountain 
gusts  and  fallen. 

[No  date.]  Tulare  Valley.  One  more  day 
brought  us  to  this  great  valley,  and  the  view  from 
the  last  hill  looking  to  northwest  was  quite  grand, 
stretching  on  one  hand  until  lost  in  distance,  and  on 
the  other  the  snowy  mountains  on  the  east  of  the 
Tulare  valley.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  I  saw  the 
Lewis  woodpecker,  and  Steller's  jay  in  this  country. 
I  have  seen  many  California  vultures  and  a  new 
hawk,  with  a  white  tail  and  red  shoulders.  During 
the  dry  season  this  great  plain  may  be  travelled  on, 
but  now  numerous  ponds  and  lakes  exist,  and  the 
ground  is  in  places,  for  miles,  too  boggy  to  ride 
over,  so  we  were  forced  to  skirt  the  hills.  This 
compelled  us  sometimes  to  take  three  days  when 
two  should  have  been  ample.  Our  journeys  now 
are  not  more  than  twenty  miles  a  day,  and  our 
nights  are  so  penetrating  and  cold,  that  four 
blankets  are  not  too  many. 

[No  date.]  Our  morning's  ride,  as  we  had 
anticipated,  was  pleasant  after  the  hills,  but  not 
directly  on  our  course,  as  the  late  rains  had  made 
the  soil;  always  soft,  impassable  for  our  mules, 
from  the  mud.  We  wound  round  the  mountains 
for  about  twenty-five  miles,  to  the  first  Indian 
village  we  had  seen,  though  we  had  passed  several 
single  huts.  Being  far  ahead  of  the  train,  I  had 
time  to  look  at  their  household  style  of  living,  and 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  183 

saw  them  grinding  their  acorns,  and  fanning  grass 
and  other  seeds,  so  as  to  prepare  their  winter's  food. 
They  appear  to  make  a  sort  of  pulp  of  the  acorn 
by  grinding  it  in  a  most  simple  mill  of  stone,  using 
two  kinds  as  convenience  or  ownership  suggests. 
One,  a  standing  mill,  and  the  other  a  kind  of 
mortar  and  pestle  style,  the  mortar  being  formed 
by  continual  use  of  the  same  place,  until  from  two 
to  six  inches  deep,  and  if  the  large  stone  is  favor- 
able, from  ten  to  twelve  holes  are  seen  in  the  same 
one. 

These  Indians  were  friendly  and  seemed  pleased 
to  see  Americans  coming  into  the  country,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  their  condition  will  be 
greatly  ameliorated  by  the  change  from  savage  to 
half-civilized  life. 

We  saw  one  company  already  installing  them- 
selves in  this  beautiful  valley,  where  they  hope  to 
make  permanent  homes. 

[No  date.]  For  two  days  heavy  rolling  hills 
of  black  soil,  clay  and  gravel  with  an  occasional 
arroyo  of  sand,  made  our  journey  tedious,  but  we 
gradually  arrived  in  better  country  for  travelling, 
but  less  grass,  and,  as  we  neared  the  San  Joaquin 
River,  immense  herds  of  antelope  and  elk  were 
seen,  so  wild  that  it  was  difficult  to  approach 
them. 

[No  date.]  This  is  our  second  day  on  the  San 
Joaquin  River,  and  we  have  secured  a  fine  elk  and 


184  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

an  antelope,  three  geese  and  two  Sandhill  cranes 
(I  am  sure  different  from  ours)  so  that  we  have 
feasted  luxuriously.  Many  thousand  geese  are 
seen  daily,  and  we  are  travelling  on  cheerfully, 
making  our  twenty-five  miles  with  ease,  and  camp- 
ing by  half-past  four  or  five  o'clock.  After  supper 
we  sit  round  our  camp  fires  for  an  hour  or  so,  and 
then  turn  in  for  the  night,  to  be  ready  for  the 
early  start  on  the  morrow. 

The  nights  here  are  in  great  contrast  to  the  days, 
and  are  exceedingly  cold,  for  all  the  icy  mountains 
send  their  damp  air  down,  as  the  sun  sinks  behind 
them. 

Following  down  the  San  Joaquin  southwest  and 
west,  we  came  to  the  river  of  the  lakes,  and  stood 
off  northwest  (its  general  course)  for  nearly  two 
days,  but  were  so  impeded  in  our  progress  by  the 
bull-rushes  that  we  turned  aside  to  a  clump  of 
trees,  where  we  expected  to  find  water  and  grass; 
but  not  succeeding,  returned  to  the  river,  about 
eight  miles,  and  with  great  difficulty  reached  the 
edge  of  it  for  water  at  dusk  —  cold,  tired,  and 
regretting  our  lost  time.  We  resolved,  neverthe- 
less, to  steer  off  from  the  rushes  next  day.  This  is 
the  locality  from  which,  I  suppose,  the  valley  takes 
its  name,  "tulare"  meaning  "rush,"  this  plant 
taking  here  the  place  of  all  others. 

{No  date.]  Today  I  ran  on  to  a  herd  of  about 
a  thousand  elk;  so  close  was  I  that  I  could  see  their 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  185 

eyes  perfectly;  these  elk  must  be  greatly  harassed 
by  the  wolves,  which  are  very  numerous,  and  so 
bold  at  night  that  we  have  had  several  pieces  of 
meat,  and  a  fine  goose  stolen  from  over  my  tent 
door.  Their  long,  lonely  howl  at  night,  the  cries 
of  myriads  of  wild  geese,  as  well  as  Hutchinson's 
goose  (which  is  very  abundant)  and  the  discordant 
note  of  the  night  heron,  tell  the  melancholy  truth 
all  too  plainly,  of  the  long,  long  distance  from 
home  and  friends. 

There  is  no  trail  but  that  of  wild  horses  and  elk, 
all  terminating  at  some  water-hole,  not  a  sign  of 
civilization,  not  the  track  of  a  white  man  to  be 
seen,  and  sometimes  the  loneliness  and  solitude 
seem  unending. 

The  water  is  beautifully  clear  now,  and  is  full 
of  fine-looking  fish;  the  large  salmon  of  these 
rivers  is  a  very  sharky-looking  fellow  and  may  be 
fine  eating,  but  as  yet  we  have  not  been  fortunate 
enough  to  get  one,  though  several  have  been  shot 
by  Hudson  and  Simson  as  they  lay  in  the  shallows. 
The  average  width  of  the  river  here  (that  is,  two 
days'  journey  from  the  mountains)  is  about  eight 
yards,  but  as  the  snows  are  high  up  on  the  moun- 
tains, no  doubt  a  great  portion  of  the  water  is 
absorbed  by  the  sandy  soil  it  runs  through. 

Among  the  oaks  the  long  acorns  of  two  shapes, 
a  good  deal  like  nuts  in  taste,  but  still  astringent  to 
a  disagreeable  degree,  are  plentiful,  and  we  eat  a 


1 86  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

good  many  of  them  both  roasted  and  raw,  by  way 
of  variety,  though  objecting  to  the  flavor.  I  have 
seen  one  or  two  nearly  three  inches  long.  Out  of 
these  acorns  the  Indians  make  their  "payote,"  a 
kind  of  paste,  which  they  dry,  and  then  put  into 
water  in  flakes,  no  doubt  to  allow  the  acrid  matter 
to  escape. 

[No  date.']  Stockton.  For  the  last  five  days 
we  have  passed  over  vast  plains  of  sandy  soil  and 
all  the  recollections  of  the  desert  would  come  upon 
us,  but  for  our  nightly  returns  to  the  river.  Passing 
two  small  rivers,  we  came  to  the  Stanislaus,  and 
went  down  it  to  the  ferry,  having  once  tried,  unsuc- 
cessfully, to  cross  it.  We  had  to  pay  a  dollar  each 
for  about  twenty  yards,  and  went  on  our  way  to 
Stockton. 

This  mushroom  town  of  skeleton  houses  and 
tents,  with  every  class  of  dwelling  from  log  cabin 
with  rush  roof,  to  the  simple  blanket  spread  to 
shelter  the  hardy  miner,  is  situated  like  Houston, 
Texas,  on  an  elevated  flat,  so  level,  that  the  water 
lying  after  every  shower,  makes  the  mud  as  deep 
as  I  ever  saw  it  on  the  rich  levees  of  Louisiana  in 
winter.  I  find  the  climate  much  the  same  as  that 
in  Louisiana,  but  without  the  beautifully  luxuriant 
vegetation  of  that  country,  and  from  all  accounts  it 
is  quite  as  healthy,  except  that  the  high  mountains 
here  give  a  pleasant  retreat  in  summer  from  the 
diseases  incident  to  that  season. 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  187 

I  left  the  men  at  the  "French  Camp,"  the  first 
prairie  out  of  the  water,  five  miles  to  the  south-west, 
and  came  into  Stockton,  with  Hudson  and  Boggs 
and  a  pack  mule  to  take  out  provisions  for  those  at 
the  camp.  We  went  into  the  "Exchange  Hotel," 
which  might  better  be  called  the  "Exchange  of 
Blacklegs."  Such  a  crowd  as  the  bar-room  of  this 
hotel  presents  nightly,  cannot  be  found  except 
where  all  nations  meet.  Cards  were  being  plaj^ed 
for  stakes  every  where,  and  the  crowd  around 
added  to  the  picture,  which  once  seen  is  difficult 
to  forget.  The  tall,  raw-boned  Westerner,  bearded 
and  moustached  like  his  Mexican  neighbor  beside 
him,  the  broad-headed  German  and  sallow  Span- 
iard, French,  Irish,  Scotch,  I  know  not  how  many 
nationalities  are  here  represented.  I  saw  even  two 
Chilians  with  their  cold,  indifferent  air,  all  mixing 
together,  each  man  on  his  guard  against  his  fellow- 
man.  The  tight  fitting  jacket  and  flowing  sarape 
touch  each  other,  all  blending  into  weirdness  in  the 
dim  light  of  a  few  candles,  would  that  I  had  time 
and  opportunity  to  sketch  some  of  the  many  scenes 
I  beheld. 

Having  bought  what  we  required  we  made  our 
way  back  to  camp  through  the  dark  dismal  night, 
wind  blowing  and  rain  falling  in  torrents. 

[No  date.']  Today  we  went  up  to  Stockton 
again,  the  approach  is  through  mud  and  mire,  or 
rather  water,  reminding  one  of  that  at  Houston 


Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 


from  the  south;  the  mud,  if  anything,  more  dis- 
agreeable to  walk  through.  One  wonders  at  the 
way  in  which  men  stay  here  day  after  day,  gamb- 
ling going  on  incessantly.  Of  course,  the  sharpers 
and  experts  get  all  the  money,  the  poor  dupes 
continue  to  put  down  gold-dust,  even  though  every 
boat  that  leaves  takes  away  professional  card- 
players,  and  they  have  to  return  to  the  mines  to  dig. 
The  craze  for  the  mines  is  beyond  all  credence; 
mechanics  refuse  sixteen  dollars  a  day,  to  go  to  the 
mines  where  half  an  ounce  is  the  regular  gain, 
though  sometimes  ten  times  that  amount. 

\No  date.']  We  leave  tomorrow  for  San  Fran- 
cisco; today  I  made  a  sketch  of  the  east  suburb  of 
the  town,  and  as  a  proof  of  the  good  intentions  of 
the  people  to  be  honest,  and  keep  up  good  princi- 
ples, a  gallows  is  the  chief  object  in  the  foreground. 
It  was  erected  to  execute  a  man  for  murder  and 
robbery. 

A  party  here  got  up  a  club  called  the  "Hounds," 
at  first  as  a  patrol,  and  were  of  real  service,  but 
later  bad  habits  crept  in,  such  as  knocking  up  any 
bar-keeper  at  any  hour  of  the  night  and  making  "a 
night  of  it."  For  some  time  they  paid  for  this  on 
the  following  day,  always  saying  as  they  went  out 
"To  the  charge  of  the  Hounds,"  but  at  last  the 
"charge"  became  the  last  of  the  matter;  eventually 
thefts  were  committed,  and  the  thief  was  convicted 
by  a  regular  jury,  and  sentenced.     The  day  for  his 


San  Diego  to  San  Franc 


execution  came,  and  he  felt  assured  that  he  would 
be  rescued  by  his  friends,  and  probably  would 
have  been,  but  for  the  arrival  of  a  ship-load  of 
emigrants,  who,  on  being  informed  of  the  fact, 
marched  out,  fully  armed,  to  see  the  law  carried 
into  effect. 

The  prices  of  everything  here  are  beyond  belief; 

Flour,                          $  40.00  per  barrel. 

Pork,  65.00  per  barrel. 

Pilot  bread,  .20  per  pound. 

India-rubber  boots,  50.00  to  $60.00. 

Flannel  shirts,  6.00  to  $  8.00. 

Shot,  .30  per  pound. 

Powder,  i. 00  to  $1.50  per  lb. 

Government  tents,  40.00,  at  home  $12.00. 

India-rubber,  100.00. 

Freight  to  the  mines,  .50  per  pound. 

and  almost  every  other  article  in  proportion;  for 
cleaning  my  watch  and  putting  on  a  new  crystal, 
$16.00.  Yet  with  these  high  prices  scarcely  one 
becomes  rich.  Board  $3.00  to  $6.00  a  day,  without 
lodging.     Washing  and  ironing  $6.00  a  dozen. 

We  are  in  a  forlorn  condition,  almost  without 
clothes,  and  our  mules  broken  down,  yet  wretched 
as  we  are  no  company  coming  by  land  has  done 
better,  and  mine  is  only  the  second  yet  holding 
together.  This  shows  how  honorable  the  men  are, 
for  [with]  wages  from  $5.00  to  $10.00  per  day, 


190  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

and  mechanics  (of  which  our  company  has  sev- 
eral) [getting]  from  $10.00  to  $16.00,  these  men 
stand  by  their  contract. 

[No  date.]  We  none  of  us  regret  leaving  Stock- 
ton, where  we  have  been  for  four  days  delayed  by 
the  steamer,  our  ill-luck  as  regards  waitings  still 
follows  us.  We  are  going  in  the  steamer  Captain 
Southern.     [?] 

San  Francisco.  December  2jd.  The  day  we 
left  Stockton  we  had  one  of  the  most  violent  gales 
I  had  seen  for  many  a  week,  and  our  boat,  a  little 
steam  side-wheeler,  was  so  flat  and  so  light  that 
the  strong  wind  from  the  south-east  had  us  ashore 
twenty  times  in  the  first  hour,  on  the  banks  of  the 
slough  which  leads  to  the  San  Joaquin,  the  main 
stream  leading  to  the  upper  bay,  Suisun;  finally 
anchors  and  all  were  dragged  high  on  the  bul- 
rushes, and  we  were  delayed  two  days  more. 

We  reached  San  Francisco  on  Saturday  night 
December  21st,  and  stayed  in  our  blankets  on  the 
floor  of  the  steamer  until  morning  when  we  went 
off,  on  what  is  called  "the  long  dock"  into  mud 
half-leg  deep.  We  paid  fifty  cents  for  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  bit  of  bread,  and  I  went  for  my  letters, 
but  found  none,  so  went  off  to  hunt  up  my  men, 
found  them  all  right,  and  returned  to  Henry  Mal- 
lory,  who  having  received  letters  was  able  to  set 
my  anxieties  about  my  family  at  rest;  but  I  alone 
of  all  the  company  had  no  home  news.     I  sat  on 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  193' 

the  deck  of  the  steamer,  the  most  quiet  place  I 
could  find,  re-read  my  old  letters,  and  went  about 
my  business  with  a  heavy  heart. 

San  Francisco.  December  2^th  184Q.  Christ- 
mas Day!  Happy  Christmas!  Merry  Christmas! 
Not  that  here,  to  me  at  any  rate,  in  this  pandemon- 
ium of  a  city.  Not  a  lady  to  be  seen,  and  the 
women,  poor  things,  sad  and  silent,  except  when 
drunk  or  excited.  The  place  full  of  gamblers, 
hundreds  of  them,  and  men  of  the  lowest  types, 
more  blasphemous,  and  with  less  regard  for  God 
and  his  commands  than  all  I  have  ever  seen  on  the 
Mississippi,  [in]  New  Orleans  or  Texas,  which 
give  us  the  same  class  to  some  extent,  it  is  true;  but 
instead  of  a  few  dozen,  or  a  hundred,  gaming  at  a 
time,  here,  there  are  thousands,  and  one  house 
alone  pays  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars 
per  annum  for  the  rent  of  the  ''Monte"  tables. 

Sunday  makes  no  difference,  certainly  not 
Christmas,  except  for  a  little  more  drunkenness, 
and  a  little  extra  effort  on  the  part  of  the  hotel 
keepers  to  take  in  more  money. 

I  spent  the  morning  looking  over  my  journal, 
and  regret  it  has  been  kept  so  irregularly,  yet,  as  I 
read  it,  and  recall  my  experiences  since  last  March, 
I  wonder  that  I  have  been  able  to  keep  it  at  all. 
I  dined  with  Havens,  Mr.  McLea,  Lieut.  Brown- 
ir.g  and  Henry  Mallory,  and  you  may  be  sure 
home  was  in  our  thoughts  all  the  time,  even  if 


194  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

other  topics  of  conversation  were  on  our  lips.  It 
seemed  impossible  for  me  to  shake  off  my  depres- 
sion. 

December  26th.  I  was  not  made  more  cheerful 
by  finding  that  our  agents  had  so  conducted  our 
affairs  that  instead  of  finding  all  our  provisions 
and  implements  nicely  stored,  and  in  good  order, 
waiting  for  us,  I  discovered  that  all  that  was  most 
useful  to  us  had  been  sold,  and  the  balance  lay 
about  in  the  wet  and  mud,  or  was  rotting,  half  dry 
for  want  of  the  requisite  cover.  The  expenses  had 
eaten  up  the  money  procured  by  the  sales,  or  so 
we  were  told,  and  I  found  myself  with  forty  men 
to  take  care  of  and  in  debt.  I  was  on  the  point  of 
breaking  up  the  company,  and  letting  every  man 
shift  for  himself,  but  felt  that  it  was  neither  brave 
nor  honorable,  so  decided  to  make  one  more  effort. 
I  drew  on  my  brother  for  one  thousand  dollars, 
borrowed  all  I  could  from  the  boys  who  had 
brought  their  own  mules  on  with  them,  and 
concluded  to  take  all  who  were  not  mechanics  with 
me  to  the  mines ;  the  mechanics  had,  without  excep- 
tion, found  work  instantly  at  exorbitant  prices. 
They  were  to  keep  half  they  made,  and  pay  in  the 
other  half  to  the  company.  I  have  been  offered 
thirty-five  dollars  a  day  to  draw  plans  for  houses, 
stores,  etc.,  but  though  I  never  intended  to  go  to 
the  mines  myself,  I  feel  now  for  the  sake  of  the 
men  who  stood  by  me,  that  I  must  stay  by  them. 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  195 


My  paints  and  canvas  have  been  left  on  the  desert, 
my  few  specimens  lost  or  thrown  away;  and  lack 
of  time,  and  the  weakness  produced  by  my  two 
illnesses  at  Monterey  and  Parras,  and  the  monoto- 
nous food,  have  robbed  me  of  all  enthusiasm;  often 
I  had  to  force  myself  to  swallow  the  little  I  did, 
knowing  I  must  if  I  was  to  get  through  at  all. 

Van  Horn  and  Dr.  Perry  will  remain  in  San 
Francisco  and  the  men  who  go  up  to  the  mines  with 
me,  are  Havens,  Layton,  Hewes,  Bloomfield, 
McGown,  Lee,  Watkinson,  Jno.  R.  Lambert,  Jos. 
Lambert,  J.  S.  Lambert,  Hutchinson,  Damon,  Jno. 
Stevens,  Cree,  Van  Buren,  Ayres,  Hinckley,  Jno. 
Stevenson,  Black,  Liscomb,  Elmslie,  E.  A.  Lam- 
bert, Dr.  Trask,  Steele,  Weed,  Henry  Mallory, 
Mitchell,  Walsh,  Valentine,  Simson,  McCusker, 
Tone,  Hudson,  Pennypacker,  Clement,  Boggs, 
Lieut.  Browning,  with  myself,  thirty-eight  in 
number. 

December  2gth.  We  left  San  Francisco  in  the 
same  steamer  we  had  travelled  on  from  Stockton. 
The  week's  rain  over,  with  the  bay  like  a  mirror, 
and  a  clear  sky  over  all,  it  was  an  enchanting  scene. 
I  thought  with  gratitude  of  the  kindness  I  had 
received  from  Messrs.  Chittenden,  Edmondson, 
McLea  and  many  others;  not  only  had  they  fre- 
quently made  me  their  guest,  but  they  had  given 
me  most  valuable  information  and  advice,  in 
reference  to  my  future  proceedings. 


196  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

As  we  moved  off  I  could  see  the  whole  town 
situated  on  high  hills  facing  the  bay,  to  the  south- 
east on  one  side,  to  the  southwest  on  the  other.  I 
could  almost  fancy  as  we  made  our  way  to  the  open 
bay  through  the  crowd  of  vessels,  that  I  could  hear 
the  chink,  chink  of  dollars  as  the  gamblers  put 
them  down  on  the  Monte  tables,  and  a  picture  of 
the  whole  place,  a  regular  Inferno,  came  before 
me  as  plainly  as  if  I  actually  saw  it.  Every  house, 
with  rare  exceptions,  letting  out  their  bar-rooms 
as  well  as  all  other  available  space,  for  gambling 
purposes,  immense  rents  being  paid  for  a  mere 
shell  of  a  house.  In  some  of  the  hotels  one  hun- 
dred dollars  a  day  was  paid  for  space  to  place  a 
single  Monte  table;  but  I  will  leave  all  this,  and 
sail  on  over  the  beautiful  bay  towards  the  east, 
which  sends  the  gold  that  makes  this  hell-hole  of 
crime  and  dissipation. 

Passing  out  of  the  mass  of  shipping  to  the  left, 
opens  out  the  pass  to  the  ocean,  and  ahead  of  us, 
surrounded  by  beautiful  hills,  smooth  but  steep, 
green  and  velvety  to  look  upon,  a  few  tall  redwoods 
ended  the  view  to  the  south.  The  water  was  as 
smooth  as  a  lake,  and  the  moon  rose  on  so  calm  a 
sheet  that  its  reflection  was  a  long,  straight  line  of 
light,  almost  as  brilliant  as  itself,  and  I  sat  late  on 
the  deck  to  admire  it,  and  to  think  of  all  at  home, 
but  at  last  went  down  to  the  filthy  cabin,  wrapped 
myself  in  my  blankets  and  lay  down  in  a  corner 
possibly  a  shade  less  dirty  than  the  others. 


San  Diego  to  San  Francisco  197 


We  reached  Stockton,  and  after  a  day  in  the 
mud  I  found  my  goods  stored  safely  and  all  ready 
for  packing,  Mr.  Starbuck  to  whom  I  had  en- 
trusted them  having  been  most  faithful.  We  went 
to  the  hotel  for  supper  which  was  worth,  perhaps, 
ten  cents,  but  cost  a  dollar  and  a  half  each.  After 
which,  with  Browning,  Simson,  Stevens,  Bloom- 
field  and  some  of  the  others,  I  took  a  look  up  and 
down  the  town.  The  gambling  was  going  on  as 
usual,  the  tables  had  changed  hands  in  some  in- 
stances, but  the  many  are  still  sitting  behind  their 
^'banks."  A  young  English  nobleman,  who  asked 
me  to  keep  his  name  a  secret,  laughed  and  said: 
"We  are  all  bankers  here."  One  young  man,  too 
young  for  such  work,  terrible  at  any  age,  I  felt 
sorry  to  see;  he  had  evidently  been  a  winner  to 
judge  from  the  large  amount  before  him,  having 
a  wall  of  gold  dust  ounce  high  and  three  rows  deep, 
leaving  a  space  of  nearly  a  foot  square  inside,  well 
filled  with  gold  pieces  of  all  stamps  and  countries, 
the  16,  8  and  4  of  the  Spanish,  the  eagles  and 
half-eagles  of  the  United  States,  sovereigns  and 
half  sovereigns  of  England,  and  others  from 
apparently  all  over  the  world,  lumps  even  of 
unalloyed  gold,  had  all  fallen  into  his  hands  today. 
He  seemed  quite  alone;  his  candles  were  still 
burning,  and  he  rested  his  cheek  on  a  delicate,  well 
formed  hand,  which  looked  as  if  it  had  not  been 
made  for  the  shovel  and  pick  of  the  mines.     He 


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was  a  very  handsome  young  fellow,  I  should  judge 
from  Virginia,  with  a  profusion  of  half  curling 
light  hair  and  deep  grey  eyes.  Suddenly  he  rose, 
looked  about  him,  and  said  in  a  quivering  voice: 
"Well,  I  came  here  to  make  my  fortune,  I've  made 
it,  there  it  is,  but.  Oh  God,  how  can  I  face  my 
mother."  He  burst  into  tears  and  dashed  from 
the  room,  which  for  an  instant  was  in  absolute 
stillness.  Two  men  came  up,  spoke  to  the  banker 
[?]  in  low  tones,  swept  the  gold  into  two  canvas 
bags  and  followed  the  youth,  or  so  I  presume. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  TOUR  OF  THE  GOLD-FIELDS 

January  2d,  1 8 SO.  Leaving  Stockton  we  tramped 
through  mud  and  water,  so  like  the  coast  of 
Louisiana  (the  Mississippi)  that  it  might  have 
been  winter  there,  instead  of  in  California.  We 
had  packed  the  day  before  leaving,  so  left  early 
for  our  walk  of  twenty  miles  after  our  pack-mules, 
and  went  over  a  partially  sandy  prairie  to  the 
Staruslaus  River,  and  at  eight  that  night  reached 
good  wood  and  water,  and  encamped  about  three 
miles  from  the  river.  Next  morning,  January  3d, 
we  left  in  the  rain  for  the  ferry,  but  owing  to  the 
bad  weather,  heavy  roads  and  exhaustion  of  Bach- 
man  and  McGown,  stopped  at  a  good  camping 
ground,  with  excellent  grass,  after  going  only  three 
miles.  The  rain  poured  all  day  and  all  night,  and 
we  lost  tvvo  days  here  in  consequence,  for  the  river 
rose  so  rapidly  that  we  could  not  cross  our  mules. 
The  next  day  the  most  of  us  did  get  over,  and 
Clement  and  Hudson  remained  behind  to  look 
after  the  mules. 

January  6th.  Leaving  the  middle  ferry,  known 
as  Islip's,  our  first  day  was  over  a  good  road  with 
occasional  quicksands  in  the  way.     The  next  day, 


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January  7th,  1850,  as  we  had  a  cold  northeast 
drizzle,  we  lay  by,  and  the  following  morning, 
January  8th,  left  for  our  destination,  the  Chinese 
Mines.  Many  of  the  views  before  us,  as  we 
mounted  hill  after  hill  looking  towards  the  moun- 
tains, are  very  beautiful  park-like  country;  the 
roads  are  a  series  of  mud-holes  and  quicksands  at 
this  season,  and  the  trees,  either  swamp,  or  post-oak, 
with  occasionally  a  fine  ridge  of  a  species  of  live- 
oak.  At  times  we  had  to  pack  the  cargoes  of  the 
weaker  mules,  every  few  hundred  yards,  and  at  one 
place,  had  nine  mules  mired  at  the  same  time,  the 
mud  being  so  tenacious  that  even  when  the  packs 
were  taken  ofif,  the  poor  animals  could  not  get  out 
without  our  help.  Three  days  of  such  travelling 
brought  us  to  our  present  camp,  the  soil  red  clay 
and  sand,  mixed  thinly  with  white  quartz  of  var- 
ious sizes,  but  generally  small,  not  more  than  two, 
or  at  most,  three  inches  in  diameter,  and  generally 
even  smaller. 

\_No  date.']  We  went  up  to  the  "diggings"^  on 
the  morning  after  our  arrival,  and  looked  round  to 
see  what  prospects  were  ahead  of  us.  We  found 
the  little  branches  bored,  and  pitted,  and  washed 


^  There  is  a  map  of  the  mining  camps  in  H.  H.  Bancroft's 
History  of  California.,  vol.  vi,  pp.  368-369.  Topographical 
details  are  given  in  the  "Claim"  sheets,  issued  by  the  United 
States  Geological  Survey.  The  inset  in  the  map  of  Audu- 
bon's route,  at  the  end  of  this  volume,  is  intended  to  locate 
only  the  places  visited  by  him. 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  201 

out  in  every  direction,  so  much  so  that  we  tried  to 
"prospect"  for  ourselves,  and  we  lost  three  days. 
We  found  the  men  already  there  kind  and  polite, 
showing  the  mode  of  working  and  washing,  of 
digging  and  drawing  most  willingly,  and  tomor- 
row open  a  pit  close  beside  some  of  the  most 
fortunate. 

The  uncertainty  of  digging  renders  the  life  of 
the  miner,  for  profit,  that  of  a  gambler,  for  most 
of  his  good  luck  depends  on  chance.  At  times  you 
may  see  two  pits  side  by  side,  one  man  getting  two 
ounces  a  day,  and  the  other  hardly  two  dollars: 
we  heard  of  one  instance  of  much  greater  disparity; 
two  friends  working  next  each  other  found  that  at 
the  end  of  the  week,  one  had  an  ounce  of  gold, 
worth  about  twenty  dollars,  the  other  gold  worth 
six  thousand  dollars.  So  it  goes,  and  we  shall  all 
have  to  work  hard.  Again  and  again  I  am  over- 
whelmed by  the  thought  that  I  am  at  these  dreary 
mines  —  I,  who  started  intent  on  drawing  and 
obtaining  new  specimens  —  to  have  so  different  a 
destiny  thrust  upon  me,  is  bewildering. 

The  ground  here  is  beautiful  rolling  valley  of 
sandy  clay,  so  like  the  post-oak  country  of  Texas 
that  one  might  almost  fancy  himself  there.  A  few 
pines  are  scattered  about,  the  cones  are  very  large, 
say  six  inches  long,  and  three  in  diameter;  the  seed 
is  a  pleasant  nut,  about  the  size  and  shape  of  a 
small,  shelled  almond;  the  quantity  of  resin  con- 


202  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

tained  is  very  great,  and  at  the  end  of  every  leaf 
of  the  cones,  quite  a  lump  is  seen. 

The  ultramarine  jay,  and  Steller's,  the  red-shaft- 
ed woodpecker  and  California  quail  are  abundant, 
and  many  finches,  some  new,  and  others  that  I 
know,  are  everywhere ;  but  I  have  no  time  to  skin 
and  preserve  specimens.  Then  too,  the  black- 
tailed  deer,  California  hare,  and  grizzly  bear,  are 
common,  as  well  as  the  small  hare.  There  are 
some  few  squirrels  and  a  marmot  or  t\vo,  but  I  have 
not  been  able  to  procure  them;  I  have  also  seen 
the  robin  of  this  country  and  many  others.  The 
country  is  otherwise  barren,  I  wish  I  was  out  of  it. 

January  20th,  l8^0.  Chinese  Diggings.  It 
does  not  seem  possible,  remembering  the  difficulties 
of  the  road,  that  we  are  only  seventy  miles  from 
Stockton.  The  men  began  "rocking"  yesterday, 
one  cradle,  and  get  about  a  dollar  an  hour,  but 
hope  to  get  more  when  in  the  way  of  it.  Those  at 
work  around  us  get  an  average  of  fourteen  a  day, 
and  at  times  much  more;  then  again  a  week's  work 
is  lost.  The  quantity  of  gold,  so  I  am  told  by  those 
who  know  more  of  it  than  I  do,  is  very  great,  but  so 
diffused  that  great  labor  is  required  to  get  it.  The 
lottery  of  the  whole  affair  is  beyond  belief.  The 
richest  gulches  are  supposed  to  be  those  on  the  river, 
the  Tuolome  [Tuolumne],  or  the  creeks  leading  to 
the  river.  The  pit,  or  piece  of  ground  allotted  to 
each  man  is  sixteen  feet  square,  this  having  been 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  203' 

settled  by  the  diggers,  and  the  law  is  enforced  by 
an  alcalde.  Many  is  the  week's  work,  the  men 
say,  when  they  do  not  get  the  price  of  their  board, 
and  again  large  amounts  are  found.  One  indi- 
vidual told  me  he  was  getting  two  ounces  a  day, 
and  gave  his  claim  up,  to  join  a  company  in  digging 
out  the  bed  of  a  river  which  they  had  drained  ofif. 
He  worked  a  month  at  the  river  scarcely  making 
two  dollars  a  day,  while  the  man  who  bought  his 
first  place,  had  accumulated  several  thousands.  I 
have  heard  fifty  such  stories,  but  as  a  whole  this 
country  will  pay  the  laborer  and  the  mechanic 
better  than  the  miners,  unless  the  latter  have  cap- 
ital. Had  we  come  my  route  and  reached  here 
with  a  hundred  mules,  a  fortune  could  soon  have 
been  made  by  packing.  But,  alas!  against  my 
better  judgment  I  allowed  myself  to  be  swayed  by 
Col.  Webb,  who  had  his  own  way  at  the  cost  of 
twenty-seven  thousand  dollars,  thirteen  lives,  and 
the  loss  of  many  months  to  all  the  men  who  came 
through. 

Chinese  Diggings.  February  1st,  l8^0.  Friday, 
and  a  most  beautiful  day;  birds  all  around  are  in 
gay  chatter,  and  the  song  of  the  raven,  jay-like,  but 
sweet  to  listen  to,  from  the  attempt  at  softness,  as 
he  nods  and  bows  with  swelling  throat  to  his  mate. 
It  is  like  March  in  Louisiana.  Alas  for  the  poor 
fellows  who  have  left  the  southern  states  to  come 
to  this,  and  settle  here  as  farmers;  to  be  drowned 


204  Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 

out  in  winter,  and  burnt  up  in  summer !  However, 
when  the  excitement  of  the  gold  fever  ceases,  as 
it  must,  California  will  find  its  level  with  the  other 
states,  and  many  a  hastily  made  fortune  will  be  as 
rapidly  lost. 

I  am  leaving  for  the  North  Fork  of  the  Stanis- 
laus, twenty-five  miles,  to  make  one  more  effort  to 
keep  the  company  together  and  to  pay  off  our 
indebtedness  to  the  stockholders,  but  I  fear  my 
efforts  will  be  useless. 

Murphy's  Diggings.  Sunday,  February  10. 
Everything  seems  against  us  —  weather  and  season, 
water  and  rain,  interrupt  us  in  all  our  attempts  at 
work,  and  ill-luck  seems  to  follow  us.  After  fruit- 
less labor  at  the  Chinese  Diggings  I  came  here, 
where  the  diggings  are  said  to  be  very  rich,  but 
where  we  have  to  wait  for  the  waters  to  subside, 
perhaps  two  months,  and  I  have  not  the  means  to 
keep  the  men  for  that  length  of  time,  even  if  the 
date  of  their  contract  did  not  expire  before  then. 

These  diggings  are  said  to  be  the  richest  in  the 
southern  mining  district  and  here  I  came  to  make 
my  last  effort  for  the  good  of  my  men ;  for  myself 
my  home  is  awaiting  me,  and  ample  means  to  pay 
off  all  the  indebtedness  I  have  personally  incurred; 
many  times  a  day  I  thank  God  I  never  asked  one 
man  to  join  the  venture,  though  I  feel  strongly 
that  some,  notably  Clement,  Walsh,  Boden,  poor 
fellow,  my  cousin  Howard  Bakewell,  and  a  few 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  205 

others  joined  because  I  did.  Knowing  this,  and 
knowing  too  how  many  have  risked  their  all,  I 
hesitate  to  leave,  as  long  as  I  feel  I  can  be  of  help 
in  any  way,  and  shall  go  into  the  matter  very 
carefully  with  the  men,  most  of  whom  however  I 
know  feel  as  I  do. 

February  2^th,  iS^O.  Today  we  all  met  to- 
gether and  after  much  serious  talk,  I  told  the  men 
that  their  time  was  more  than  up,  and  that,  conse- 
quently they  were  their  own  masters  and  the  com- 
pany dissolved.  I  told  them,  too,  that  I  was  ready 
to  help  each  and  all  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  poor 
enough,  but  I  believed  we  could  do  better  in  other 
ways  than  mining.  Not  a  word  was  said,  and 
silently  all  went  to  their  tents;  we  had  been  a  year 
together,  in  sickness  and  trouble,  in  boisterous 
mirth  and  sorrowful  anxiety,  and  like  old  and  tried 
friends  we  felt  the  coming  separation  keenly;  we 
were  all  greatly  depressed.  I  shall  be  with  the  men 
for  some  weeks,  and  shall  then  try  to  make  up  for 
part  of  what  I  have  lost,  making  drawings  and 
sketches,  and  collecting  such  specimens  as  I  can.  I 
am  bitterly  disappointed  for  the  men  who  have 
been  so  faithful,  and  who  have  stood  by  me  so 
staunchly,  but  as  Tone  said  to  me  some  hours  after 
our  talk:  "There's  more  money  to  be  made  here  by 
land  speculations,  and  every  kind  of  work  than 
there  is  in  mining,  and  those  who  work  will  get  on." 
I  quite  agree  with  him,  and  when  one  hears  of  the 


2o6  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

return  of  men  with  large  fortunes,  ask  if  specula- 
tions in  land  or  trade,  bar-keeping  or  Monte 
dealing  has  not  swollen  the  first  few  hundreds,  dug 
and  gained  with  hard  labor,  privation,  or,  in  rare 
cases,  wonderful  luck.  Even  then  for  one  man  who 
has  a  thousand,  there  are  hundreds  who  will  not 
average  a  tenth  of  it  after  expenses  are  paid. 

March  6th.  Again  on  the  road  from  Stockton 
east,  towards  the  mines.  I  have  been  to  San  Fran- 
cisco and  am  now  on  my  way  to  join  Layton  to 
begin  my  tour  of  the  mining  and  agricultural 
districts  of  this  now  most  fairy-like  country,  every- 
thing so  smiling  and  beautiful,  flowers  of  the 
smaller  varieties  by  thousands;  and  the  snow 
melting  sends  its  waters  down  all  the  little  rills  and 
rivulets  clear  and  pure,  giving  freshness  and  luxuri- 
ance to  the  whole  country;  could  it  retain  so  much 
beauty  through  the  summer,  I  should  pronounce 
it,  at  once,  the  most  enchanting  land  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  yet,  as  I  think  of  the  beautiful  shrubs  of 
the  east,  and  where  they  do  exist,  of  the  magnolias, 
wild  roses,  and  flowering  vines  and  trees  we  have, 
I  think  the  countries  balanced,  for  here  two  species 
of  oak,  three  pines,  the  redwood  and  the  laurel, 
will  almost  enumerate  the  whole  of  the  common 
varieties  of  trees. 

Farther  south,  back  of  San  Diego,  in  the  valley 
of  Santa  Maria,  I  saw  the  finest  sycamores  I  have 
ever  come  across ;  they  grow  where  they  have  room 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  207 

enough  to  extend  their  gigantic  limbs  laterally, 
instead  of  forcing  their  huge  trunks  in  rivalry  with 
the  oaks,  to  get  fresh  air  and  sunshine. 

The  country  from  Stockton  is  a  clayey  flat,  so 
little  of  an  inclination  to  the  land,  that  the  water 
appears  to  lie  until  evaporated,  and  the  "sloughs" 
in  many  places  are  sluggish  and  seem  to  be  more 
water-holes  than  running  streams,  until  they  reach 
the  Calaveras,  which  is  a  beautiful  creek  nearly 
dry  four  months  of  the  year,  but  the  other  eight 
giving  good  water.  The  meadow-like  flats  about 
it  look  just  ready  for  the  plough,  though  by  using 
that,  a  sward  of  good  grass  would  be  lost.  The 
country  from  here  becomes  very  gradually  more 
and  more  undulating,  changing  the  nature  of  the 
soil  every  few  miles.  In  some  places  the  hills 
are  of  clay,  and  valleys  of  greyish  loam,  or  red 
sand  thickly  mixed  in  with  quartz;  in  many  cases 
water-worn,  but  all  is  so  beautiful  that  were  the 
woods  more  dense,  and  the  water-courses  now  so 
inviting,  "never-failing,"  the  farmer  would  here 
find  his  Paradise,  and  by  selecting  his  land  so  as 
to  avoid  the  gravelly  sub-soil,  which  is  too  abun- 
dant for  richness,  and  choosing  that  which  has  the 
clay  foundation,  his  plantation  might  be  one  of 
great  permanence,  for  the  rains  here  do  not  wash 
off  much  of  the  soil. 

March  8th.  Following  up  one  of  the  north 
forks  of  the  Calaveras,  we  passed  through  beauti- 


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ful  valleys,  green  and  luxuriant,  but  very  short 
stretches  of  grass;  the  hills,  at  times,  so  close 
together  at  the  base  that  the  valley  was  almost  lost; 
but  the  ascent  was  rapid,  and  we  found  ourselves 
soon  on  the  singular  hills  of  this  country  within 
a  mile  of  the  Mokolumne  [Mokelumme]  mines, 
where  we  camped  for  the  night. 

March  gth,  iS^O.  The  ice  this  morning  was 
half  an  inch  thick,  and  the  cold  at  day-light, 
intense.  One  hour  after  sunrise,  the  day  began  to 
be  summer,  and  at  nine  o'clock  our  coats  were  off, 
and  we  were  riding  towards  the  beautiful  view 
made  by  the  interesting  lines  of  Mokolumne  hill 
and  its  adjacent  fellows,  all  eccentric,  and  all  inter- 
esting. 

The  soil  in  the  ravines  here  is  mostly  clay,  but 
from  time  to  time  partakes  of  the  sandy  red  clay 
so  common  in  this  country,  resembling  very  much 
the  gravelly  hills  of  the  post-oaks  of  Texas.  The 
ride  up  the  stream  to  "Mokolumne  rich  gulch," 
is  very  interesting,  passing  between  two  hills,  or 
lines  of  hills,  with  occasional  ravines  leading  down 
to  the  creek  we  were  following. 

We  passed  an  Indian  village  of  six  huts;  the 
squaws  were  pounding  acorns  to  make  "payote," 
in  natural  mortars,  formed  by  the  slight  indenta- 
tions being  used  constantly;  the  pounding  of  the 
stone  (small  granite  boulders,  water-worn  smooth) , 
sometimes  wear  the  holes  a  foot  deep;  but  they 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  209 

are  generally  deserted  before  that  depth  is  reached. 
A  smooth,  flat  stone  is  usually  preferred  by  the 
Indians  to  begin  on,  and  if  the  country  suits  their 
purposes,  and  the  lodges  remain  any  length  of 
time  in  the  neighborhood,  the  stone  is  often  marked 
with  thirty  or  forty  of  these  mortar  holes. 

[No  date.]  Leaving  "Rich  gulch,"  we  took  a 
southerly  course  over  the  ridge,  and  wound  down 
the  branches  of  the  Calaveras,  until  the  various 
rivulets  united  and  formed  what  is  called  the  ^ 
"north  branch  of  the  Calaveras."  Where  we 
crossed,  it  was  about  eighteen  inches  deep,  and 
runs  over  a  rough  bed  of  various-sized  pebbles, 
with  larger  lumps  of  granite  and  quartz  for  the 
horses  to  stumble  over,  making  the  ford  when  the 
stream  is  muddy  from  recent  rains,  very  treach- 
erous. The  soil  is  of  the  same  character  for  a 
mile  or  two,  occasionally  of  a  reddish  loam,  con- 
taining both  clay  and  sand,  mixed  with  gravel,  of 
angular  formation,  very  small,  and  with  more  or 
less  quartz,  equally  various  as  to  the  size  and  quan- 
tity of  the  pieces. 

The  pits  dug  by  the  miners  at  the  Chinese  Dig- 
gings, five  miles  from  the  Tuolome  [Tuolumne] 
River,  and  midway  between  the  mountains  and 
plains,  among  the  hills,  present  ordinarily  a  super- 
ficial loam  of  from  six  to  eighteen  inches,  rich,  at 
times,  but  again  of  the  light  bluish  clay;  the  next 
stratum  is  of  reddish  clay  and  gravel,  and  very 


Audubon's  JVestern  Journal 


hard,  ending  in  slatey  rock,  soft  and  dead  to  pick 
at,  and  having  the  usual  friability  of  the  trap  slate 
that  is  so  plentiful  all  over  the  country,  sticking 
up  in  places  like  the  headstones  of  a  deserted 
churchyard.  At  Wood's  Diggings  the  same 
appearance  is  seen,  but  with  the  slate  in  more 
upright  strata  and  hard. 

March  l8th.  At  Murphy's  New  Diggings,  the 
gulch  is  full  of  lumps  of  granite  and  heavy  gravel ; 
in  the  part  called  "The  Flat"  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  valley  the  soil  is  of  great  depth,  in  places  eight 
to  ten  feet,  less  in  others. 

March  20th.  From  Murphj^'s  New  Diggings 
to  Angel's  Camp  is  six  miles;  the  country  just 
undulating,  inviting  the  squatter  to  put  up  his  log 
house,  made  from  the  few  pines  that,  from  time 
to  time,  form  little  clusters,  but  so  far  apart  as 
always  to  arrest  the  attention,  and  call  forth  the 
admiration  of  the  wanderer  through  these  lonely 
hills,  where  the  want  of  woods  to  me  gives  more 
solitude  than  our  densest  forest;  so  much  for  habit, 
for  I  recollect  well  that  "Beaver,"  my  Delaware 
Indian  guide  in  Texas,  always  was  anxious  for 
the  prairie,  whenever  I  took  him  into  the  deep 
swamps  of  the  Brasos  or  Guadaloupe. 

"Angel's  Diggings"  is  one  of  the  many  repeti- 
tions of  the  same  thing  seen  every  day.  A  beautiful 
little  brook,  with  precipitous  sides,  and  gravelly 
or  rocky  beds ;  high  hills  of  red  clayey  loam,  mixed 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields 


or  sprinkled  with  bits  of  quartz  and  slate,  form- 
ing continual  amphitheatres  at  almost  every  bend 
of  the  creek.  Here  I  met  a  gentleman  who  had, 
for  many  years,  been  washing  gold  in  the  Caro- 
linas;  he  had  a  quicksilver  machine  of  his  own 
invention,  price  one  thousand  dollars,  which  he 
was  working  with  six  men.  He  told  me  he  was 
getting  a  pound  a  day  from  the  sands  he  was  wash- 
ing, which  had  been  washed  already  in  the 
common  rocker.  He  did  not  feel  so  sure  of  its 
efficacy  in  the  clay  diggings,  but  for  sand  it  cer- 
tainly was  admirable.  These  diggings  like  all  I 
have  seen  that  were  worth  anything  were  com- 
pletely riddled ;  first  by  the  top  washing,  and  "dry" 
washing  of  the  Mexicans,  then  by  the  hurried, 
superficial  "panning  out"  of  the  lucky  American 
who  came  first  and  reaped  his  fortune;  next  better 
dug  out  by  the  gold  digger  for  his  three  ounces 
a  day,  and  now  toil  and  hard  labor  gave  the  strong 
determined  washer  from  small  amounts  to,  occa- 
sionally, an  ounce  a  day,  when  the  water  will  per- 
mit him  to  work. 

March  2^d.  Our  road  to  Cayote  [Coyote] 
made  a  "V"  from  Murphy's,  over  a  poor  soil,  with 
nothing  of  interest  along  the  six  miles  but  a  small 
elevation  of  semi-basaltic  sand-stone,  mixed  with 
granite,  with  large  particles  of  crystal-like  spar. 

The  approach  to  Cayote  is  down  a  red  clay  hill, 
of  course,  and  is  on  a  point  made  by  two  little  rivers 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


(I  should  call  them  streams)  which  meet  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  diggings.  The  larger  one  is 
called  the  Cayote  River,  a  branch  of  the  north 
fork  of  the  Stanislaus,  and  the  diggings  are  about 
ten  miles  up  if  you  follow  the  windings  of  the 
creek,  but  by  the  road  only  five  to  the  Stanislaus. 

The  first  year  these  diggings  were  worked  many 
large  amounts  of  gold  were  dug  here  with  little 
labor;  the  second  year  required  harder  labor  for 
poorer  results,  and  it  is  its  early  reputation  that 
keeps  it  up,  though  some  holes  are  still  paying 
well;  I  was  told  four,  out  of  the  fifty  then  being 
worked.  The  largest  amount  taken  in  the  time  I 
have  been  here,  two  days,  was  found  by  five 
(Englishmen,  two  pounds  and  three  ounces;  others 
are  well  content  with  an  ounce  a  day  and  do  not 
give  up  their  holes  if  much  less  than  that  is  the 
result  of  ten  hours  or  more  work. 

There  are  a  few  Indians  near  this  place;  poor, 
miserable  devils,  dirty  and  half  clothed,  for  they 
have  given  up  buckskin  for  Mexican  blankets,  their 
faces  begrimed  with  dirt  and  their  whole  appear- 
ance one  of  neglect  and  filth.  They  dig  a  little 
gold  from  time  to  time  and  leave  a  good  share  of 
it  with  a  French  trader,  Poillon  by  name.  He 
makes  his  trade  pay  by  giving  them  presents  in 
the  morning  to  secure  their  good-will,  and  a  little 
extra  change  at  night,  on  his  provisions.  I  saw 
him  selling  the  lowest  part  of  a  leg  from  the  fore- 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  213' 

quarter  of  a  very  poor  beef  at  an  abominable  price, 
and  he  turned  to  me  with  a  pitiful  expression,  and 
asked  if  he  ought  to  let  it  go  for  so  small  a  price, 
showing  me  an  ounce  of  gold.  All  Indian  trad- 
ing appears  to  be  done  in  the  same  way,  make  them 
presents,  and  then  charge  double  the  value  of  the 
gift,  on  the  first  article  they  buy. 

The  food  of  these  Indians  is  chiefly  the  "payote" 
made  from  the  acorns  into  a  kind  of  gruel,  rather 
astringent  to  the  taste  of  the  white  man,  but  to  an 
Indian  digestion  all  seems  good  that  can  be  swal- 
lowed. 

I  saw  a  papoose,  too  small  to  walk,  with  a  stone 
in  his  hand  half  as  big  as  his  head,  shelling  out 
the  nuts  of  the  pine-cone,  cracking  and  eating  them 
with  the  judgment  of  a  monkey,  and  looking  very 
much  like  one. 

Their  wigwams  faced  the  south,  and  formed  an 
irregular  cluster  of  bark  and  mud  cones;  the  usual 
number  of  fox-  and  wolf-like  dogs  gave  the  same 
effect  that  I  am  accustomed  to,  but  the  tribe  is  not 
as  handsome  as  the  Indians  of  the  east,  or 
even  the  Yumas,  Pimos,  or  the  Maricopas  on 
the  Gila. 

Leaving  Cayote  diggings,  the  trail  for  five  miles 
passes  between  two  moderately  high  ridges  to 
Carson's  Creek,  where  the  soil  changes  to  a  much 
poorer  quality;  crossing  the  creek  we  ascended  a 
fairly  high  hill,  from  which  I  took  a  sketch  across 


214 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


the  Stanislaus.  The  sunset  effect  Was  fine,  but 
I  had  no  colors  with  me. 

March  2Sth.  After  crossing  the  Stanislaus  we 
ascended  a  long  hill  leading  about  southwest, 
towards  the  "Mormon  Gulch"  three  miles  dis- 
tant. The  road  wound  up  ravines  for  the  first 
two  miles,  and  would  have  made  as  beautiful  a 
walk  as  it  did  a  ride.  All  nature  was  still  and 
calm,  and  the  silent  scene  brought  Sunday  to  both 
our  minds,  and  we  agreed  that  whether  in  the 
wilderness,  or  at  home,  the  day  brought  a  feeling 
of  tranquillity.  We  almost  changed  our  minds 
when  we  reached  the  diggings,  so  different  was 
the  scene.  The  bar-rooms  were  all  doing  a 
"thriving  business,"  and  the  monte  dealers  were 
doing  even  a  better,  gloating  over  the  hard-earned 
piles  of  gold  dust  which  ought  to  have  served  a 
better  purpose. 

Passing  all  this,  and  going  up  a  beautiful 
gorge,  winding  at  times  so  as  almost  to  form  a 
semi-circle,  we  turned  our  course,  and  came  upon 
a  most  exquisite  cascade;  the  water  split  upon  a 
bold  rock  about  fifty  feet  high  and  tumbled  in 
leaps  of  from  six  to  ten  feet  until  it  reached  the 
rocky  bed,  where  it  rushed  on  boiling  and  bubbling 
impetuously  until  it  joined  the  Stanislaus. 

Our  walk  to  Wood's  Creek  was  hot  and  tiresome, 
and  after  cooling  off  we  took  a  sponge  bath,  the 
water  being  too  cold  for  a  plunge,  and  then  saun- 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  215 

tered  about  looking  for  the  best  points  at  which 
to  take  views  of  this  most  beautiful  part  of  the 
country.  Situated,  by  comparison,  in  a  basin,  and 
straggling  up  and  down  the  creek  are  here  situated 
Wood's  diggings,  Jamestown  and  Yorktown.  The 
soil  looks  poor,  and  the  rock  is  granite  and  sand- 
stone with  some  slate.  On  the  high  points  and 
peaks  of  "Table  Mountain"  huge  masses  of  con- 
glomerate boulders,  two  feet  and  more  in  diameter, 
are  scattered  everywhere,  and  give  a  dreary  look 
to  all  the  north  side  of  Wood's  diggings.  The 
hill  to  the  west  has  shot  up  into  beautiful  obelisks 
of  quartz,  and  you  only  cease  to  admire  it  to  be  in 
raptures  over  the  views  seen  by  turning  east,  to 
look  over  mountain  beyond  mountain,  snowy  peaks 
bare  of  trees,  and  between  them  the  rounded  points 
of  hills,  looking  tiny  by  comparison.  To  the 
south,  bold,  rounded  but  high  mountains,  full  of 
verdure  and  with  most  graceful  outlines,  enchant 
you,  while  the  verdant  stretches  at  the  foot  of  these 
mountains  have  a  pastoral  air  which  made  us  think 
of  home. 

March  2Jth.  My  day  passed  in  a  vain  attempt 
to  transfer  to  canvas  the  scene  before  our  tent; 
when  I  had  worked  some  hours  I  went  into  the 
tent  next  to  ours,  where  lies  a  poor  man,  ill,  pale, 
dejected,  unable  to  move  even  a  few  steps.  His 
mud  roof  leaks,  the  soil  forming  the  side  of  his 
cabin  is  so  porous  that  it  admits  such  quantities  of 


2i6  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

water  that  a  ditch  is  necessary  to  carry  it  off  from 
the  dirt  floor.  This  man  came  round  the  Horn, 
and  the  long  voyage  and  poor  food  left  him  such  a 
victim  of  scurvy  that  since  he  arrived  in  California, 
the  first  of  last  October,  he  has  worked  only  six 
days;  the  relative  with  whom  he  came,  and  who 
has  toiled  for  both,  has  only  been  able  to  keep  them 
in  provisions,  with  his  best  endeavors;  he  has  no 
money  to  get  home,  now  his  only  wish.  This 
man  is  the  brother  of  Barnum,  the  museum  man; 
he  has  written  to  him,  and  is  awaiting  a  draft 
which  will  enable  him  to  return. 

Day  and  night  (these  beautiful  moonlight 
nights),  flock  after  flock  of  wild  geese  pass  almost 
hourly  over  our  heads  to  the  north.  I  give  up  in 
despair  trying  to  fathom  the  use  of  their  migration, 
when  hundreds  of  their  fellows  are  known  to  breed 
so  far  south.  Their  courtship  is  kept  up  as  they 
fly  high  over  the  grassy  plains  where  they  fed  last 
fall,  for  if  you  look  closely  at  the  flock,  you  will 
see  that  with  the  exception  of  the  old  gander,  a 
fourth  larger  than  the  others,  as  a  rule  all  the  rest 
are  in  pairs,  and  the  males  follow  the  females  so 
closely  that  the  line  is  composed  of  two  very  near 
together,  two  a  little  distance  from  them,  and  so 
on  to  the  end. 

March  28th.  Wood's  diggings  having  given 
me  such  sketches  as  I  could  take,  we  took  the 
valley   road   to   Chinese    diggings,   en    route    for 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  217 

Hawkin's  [Hawkins's]  bar,  on  the  Tuolomne.  We 
were  assured  before  we  left  that  "Woods"  now  only 
giving  five  dollars  at  the  most  to  good  workers, 
once  gave  as  many  ounces,  and  is  now  kept  up  on  its 
past  reputation  by  the  storekeepers,  as  all  pros- 
pectors must  pay  something;  one  takes  a  drink, 
another  some  fresh  meat,  another  a  pair  of  boots; 
all  is  sold  at  exorbitant  prices,  and  storekeepers  get 
rich  if  no  one  else  does.  We  are  now  leaving 
Layton  for  Sonora  Camp,  and  I,  for  Hawkin's 
Bar. 

Every  turn  gives  some  vista  of  beauty  in  this 
Garden  of  Eden;  the  soft  southerly  breeze  is  per- 
fumed with  the  delicate  odor  of  millions  of  the 
smaller  varieties  of  prairie  flowers,  in  some  places 
so  abundant  as  to  color  acres,  whole  hillsides,  so 
thickly  as  to  hide  the  ground,  and  my  mule  had  to 
eat  flowers  rather  than  grass.  One  without  home 
ties  might  well  feel  all  his  days  could  be  passed  in 
the  beauties  of  these  valleys,  roseate  yellow  and 
blue,  so  soft  that  the  purest  sky  cannot  surpass  the 
color  for  delicacy.  Tangled  masses  of  vines  climb 
everywhere,  hiding  the  hard  surfaces  of  the  quartz 
rocks,  and  beyond  this  exquisite  vegetation  always 
some  view,  wild  and  impressive,  meets  the  eye. 

But  to  facts:  Bob  Layton  says:  "Don't  bring 
your  wagons  through  Chinese  Diggings;"  and  I 
agree  with  him,  unless  you  have  nine  yoke  of 
pretty  good  oxen  to  your  load  of  three  thousand 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


five  hundred  pounds.  I  believe  that  teams  such  as 
these  do  get  about  three  miles  a  day  across  the 
boggy  flat  and  post-oak  quicksands  of  these  dig- 
gings. (In  many  places  the  body  of  the  luggage 
wagon  is  six  inches  deep  in  the  mud.)  This  con- 
dition lasts  from  December  to  March  inclusive. 

What  this  country  must  be  in  summer  I  cannot 
say,  but  if  it  cracks  as  the  soil  does  south  of  Los 
Angeles,  it  must  indeed  be  miserable,  and  the 
stories  of  the  Mexicans  we  met  below  the  Colorado 
must  be  true,  when  they  said  it  was  almost  impas- 
sable. 

A  few  miles  on  towards  Hawkin's  Bar  on  the 
Tuolomne  the  country  is  very  fine,  and  little  plains 
and  valleys  fill  the  six  miles,  all  but  the  last  one, 
which  is  a  steep  descent,  short  and  rugged,  over 
clay  and  rocks.  On  this  ridge  the  grass  is  sparse, 
and  "arrow-wood"  was  plentiful.  The  day's 
march  over,  you  set  up  your  tent,  and  find  cool  and 
delicious  water  from  the  Tuolomne  just  as  it  leaves 
its  mountain  gorge;  a  little  creek  on  the  left  which 
has  taken  its  rise  below  the  altitude  of  snow  is 
twenty  degrees  warmer,  and  so  more  welcome  for 
bathing  purposes. 

March  2gth.  The  Tuolomne  here,  one  mile 
above  Hawkin's  Bar,  comes  out  of  a  gorge  in  the 
hills,  which  is  both  steep  and  rocky,  and  sends 
forth  the  troubled  stream  to  be  tossed  and  dashed 
over  rocks  and  shallow  bars,  for  miles  through 


A  H 


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Tour  of  the  Gold-fields 


hills  and  chasms  until  it  reaches  the  plains,  when 
it  moves  quietly,  but  still  rapidly  at  this  season, 
as  it  makes  its  way  to  the  San  Joaquin,  ninety  or  a 
hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  that  stream. 

The  river  here  rises  and  falls  daily  and  nightly 
almost  with  the  regularity  of  the  tide,  not  ordi- 
narily more  than  a  foot  or  two,  this  being  due  to  the 
effect  of  the  sun  on  the  snows  of  the  mountains; 
the  warmer  the  day  the  higher  the  water.  At 
night  many  men  in  parties  of  from  twenty-five  to 
fifty  are  here  engaged  in  digging  canals  to  drain 
the  bed.  of  the  river  at  low  water.  I  learn  how- 
ever that  they  are  greatly  hindered  in  this  by  nu- 
merous springs  in  the  bottom  of  the  river,  and 
though  there  is  no  doubt  a  great  deal  of  gold,  the 
difficulties  of  getting  it  without  machinery  are 
more  than  can  be  realized  by  any  one  who  has  not 
been  here  and  tried. 

The  buzzards  in  this  upper  country  are  just 
pairing.  I  have  seen  three  or  four  couples  of  the 
California  vulture  but  have  not  secured  one  yet. 

The  bar  which  was  dug  here  last  year  is  now 
under  water,  but  I  am  told  it  was  very  profitable 
and  many  made  five  or  six  thousand  from  their 
summer's  work.  There  are  many  here  waiting  for 
the  plains  to  dry  and  snows  to  melt,  when  Hawkin's 
celebrated  bar  may  again  be  worked.  While  I 
am  here,  I  may  as  well  try  to  give  an  idea  of  how 
the  work  is  done.     When  a  spot  has  been  selected 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


the  digger  opens  a  pit,  ordinarily  four  to  six  feet 
deep,  but  sometimes  only  the  top  soil  has  to  be 
removed  before  the  digger  can  commence  wash- 
ing; this  depends  on  whether  he  comes  to  soil 
tenacious  enough  to  hold  the  gold,  and  keep  it 
from  sinking  down  through  light,  sandy,  or  porous 
soils,  until  it  meets  with  a  formation  which  pre- 
vents it  from  going  deeper  into  the  earth.  Some- 
times in  such  places  are  found  large  deposits 
called  "pockets,"  and  doubtless  there  are  still  many 
to  be  discovered.  When  suitable  soil  is  found  the 
digger  takes  a  panful  for  washing,  and  with  doubt 
and  anxiety  goes  to  the  nearest  water  to  see  if  his 
"hole"  will  pay.  He  stirs  the  earth  and  sand  in 
his  pan  around,  until  all  the  soluble  part  floats  off 
over  the  sides  of  the  pan,  which  is  kept  under 
water;  he  then  begins  shaking  backwards  and  for- 
wards with  a  regular  movement  what  is  left  in 
his  pan,  to  settle  what  gold  is  in  it;  the  gold  sinks 
and  all  the  lighter  gravel  is  tipped  to  the  sides, 
and  the  gold  is  quite  below  all  except  the  black 
sand,  so  like  emery  that  when  the  gold  is  very  fine 
it  is  a  great  drawback,  and  difficult  to  separate. 
Should  the  digger  find  gold  enough  to  warrant 
his  washing  the  clay  at  the  bottom  of  his  pit,  and 
thereby  gaining  half  an  ounce  a  day  he  goes  on 
washing,  but  grumbles  at  his  hard  luck,  hoping 
that  as  he  gets  deeper  in  his  hole  he  will  get  richer 
also,  and  that  when  he  comes  to  rock,  he  may  find 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  223' 

a  "pocket."  The  cradle  is  set  up,  the  water  poured 
over,  and  the  monotony  of  the  diggers  life  begins, 
a  sort  of  voluntary  treadmill  occupation,  until 
homesick  and  tired,  even  if  successful,  he  ties  up 
his  wallet  which  contains  his  wealth,  secretes  it 
about  his  body,  and  tramps  off.  A  man  who  is 
usually  successful,  and  there  are  not  so  many,  may 
have  acquired  five  or  six  thousand  dollars,  but  he 
has  usually  aged  ten  years. 

April  ^th.  Leaving  Hawkin's  Bar  for  Green 
Springs,  we  sauntered  along  the  trail  under  the  y 
beautiful  post-oaks,  just  now  in  their  greatest 
beauty,  with  leaves  half-grown  and  pendant  cat- 
kins. Now  we  shot  a  partridge  or  a  hare,  or 
stopped  to  let  "Riley,"  our  pack  mule,  luxuriate  in 
some  little  patch  of  rich  grass,  in  which  he  stood 
knee  deep.  Overhead  we  saw  the  heavy,  sweep- 
ing motion  of  the  vulture's  wing,  or  watched  his 
silent  circles.  Around  us  are  flowers  innumer- 
able, brilliant,  soft,  modest,  fragrant,  to  suit  all 
fancies,  till,  having  finished  our  eight-mile  journey, 
the  sun  began  to  cast  its  evening  light  over  the 
landscape,  for  we  had  started  late.  Layton  had 
rejoined  me,  and  we  set  up  our  tent  and  I  made 
a  sketch. 

April  6th.  Four  o'clock  found  us  on  our  way 
back  to  Hawkin's,  to  meet  a  friend  of  Layton's, 
N.  Howard,  who  was  to  be  our  companion.  It 
was  cloudy  but  beautiful,   and  at  Wedgewood's 


224  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

tent  we  found  our  friend,  and  shelter,  of  which 
we  were  glad,  as  rain  was  beginning  to  fall  and 
soon  came  down  in  torrents,  swelling  the  little 
brook  near  the  tents  to  a  roaring  stream. 

April  8th.  After  being  delayed  by  rain,  our 
trio  started  for  Don  Pedro's  Bar,  eight  miles  down 
the  Tuolomne.  The  country  to  look  at  is  most 
beautiful,  and  our  short  walk  was  one  of  pleasure 
and  admiration. 

April  gth.  This  morning  we  crossed  the  river 
and  after  a  trot  of  about  five  miles  came  to  the 
caiion.  I  made  my  way  to  the  lower  end  called 
Indian  Bluff  and  my  sketch  was  finished  by  prob- 
ably five  o'clock;  but  having  no  watch  I  cannot 
tell.  Here  I  saw  the  nests  of  the  California  vul- 
ture, but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  now  an 
impassable  torrent. 

The  country  on  the  south  side  of  this  river, 
where  we  are,  is  very  hilly,  the  soil  tolerable,  and 
the  trees  still  post-oak.  We  leave  for  Stockton 
tomorrow. 

April  lOth.  The  road  was  pleasant  on  our  way 
back  to  Green  Springs  and  for  a  mile  further,  and 
when  evening  came  we  pitched  our  "line"  tent, 
and  commenced  cooking  our  supper.  We  had  a 
California  hare,  a  mallard  and  a  plover,  all  killed 
out  of  season,  but  food  we  must  have.  Howard 
boasted  of  his  coffee,  Layton  is  the  baker  of  the 
mess,  whilst  I  parboiled  my  slices  of  pork  to  rid 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  225 

it  of  its  coarse  flavor,  fried  out  the  lard,  and  have 
turned  and  re-turned  the  loin  and  hindlegs  of  our 
hare.  "Riley"  safely  tethered  near  us  had  an 
equally  good  supper  of  the  grass  and  flowers  that 
were  to  be  his  bed,  and  we  spread  our  blankets 
and  went  to  sleep,  or  rather  the  other  two  have 
done  so,  and  I,  writing  by  the  firelight,  shall  soon 
follow  their  example. 

April  nth.  Our  road  today  was  almost  the 
same  that  I  had  travelled  with  the  company  going 
from  Stockton  to  Chinese  Camp  or  diggings,  but 
how  changed  the  scene.  The  road  then  was  soft 
mud  and  mire  for  miles ;  now  it  is  as  hard  as  brick, 
and  the  hills  then  scarcely  tinged  with  green  by  the 
early  sprouting  vegetation  are  now  fresh  and 
beautiful  with  every  shade  of  green  and  brilliant 
flowers  of  all  colors.  At  every  rise  of  ground  we 
paused  and  turned  to  look  back  at  the  range  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  softening  and  mellowing  in  the 
hazy  light  of  the  sun,  the  brilliancy  enhanced  by 
the  deepening  blue  of  the  distant  hills  which  form 
the  last  outline  on  the  eastern  horizon. 

Here  I  tried  my  hand  again  at  oil  painting  for 
landscape,  but  can  only  blot  in  what  will  answer 
hereafter  to  give  me  local  color.  After  painting 
about  three  hours  we  packed  up  and  started  again, 
as  there  was  no  water  near  us,  and  took  our  direc- 
tion westerly.  We  found  the  beds  of  the  streams 
that  in  January  were  beautiful  little  rivulets,  now 


226  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

bright  sand  bleaching  in  the  sun,  their  waters  dried 
up  or  only  a  tiny  trickle.  As  we  descended  from 
one  table  land  to  another  the  rich  vegetation 
became  broken  by  spots  of  barrenness,  and  at  times 
whole  plains  of  weeds,  not  strong  and  rank  showing 
fertile  land,  but  coarse,  noxious,  ungainly  with 
disgusting  smell,  extended  for  three  or  four  miles 
and  we  followed  the  dusty  road  almost  feeling 
that  we  were  again  on  our  terrible  journey  through 
Mexico  last  summer. 

All  these  valleys  along  the  river  look  more  fer- 
tile in  winter  than  at  this  season,  as  the  wet  and 
moisture  gives  the  appearance  of  richness,  which 
is  now  completely  dissipated  by  the  already 
parched-up  eflfect  of  the  land. 

To  give  you  some  little  idea  of  the  changes 
occurring  in  this  country:  the  ferry  we  crossed  last 
winter  (and  could  only  be  taken  over  after  great 
bargaining  for  a  dollar  each),  we  crossed  today, 
all  three  of  us,  and  our  mule  for  the  same  sum  of 
one  dollar.  So  at  the  mines,  the  same  change  has 
taken  place;  last  year  an  ounce  was  considered  the 
average  of  the  produce  of  good  working  men  per 
diem;  this  year  half  an  ounce  is  considered  the 
average,  by  equally  good  and  better  skilled  work- 
men. The  people  at  home  will  not  believe  that 
the  roads  are  travelled  by  a  continuous  line  of 
miners;  some  on  foot,  some  with  packs,  mules, 
wagons,  in  search  of  "better  luck." 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  227 

The  snows  are  melting  so  fast  just  now  that  the 
river  is  within  two  feet  of  being  as  high  as  when 
I  crossed  in  the  winter  just  after  two  nights  of  rain ; 
then  it  was  muddy,  and  anyone  could  see  was  not 
in  a  natural  state,  now  though  almost  as  rapid  and 
deep  its  clear  waters  do  not  give  the  angry  look  it 
had  then  —  so  much  for  summer  and  its  softening 
effects. 

The  road  from  Stanislaus  over  broad  prairies  of  v 
poor  sandy  soil  extends  for  miles  until  nearing 
the  edge  of  the  line  of  beautiful  old  oaks  that 
fringe  French  Creek  and  its  swamps;  then  the 
earth  becomes  richer  and  sends  up  a  growth  of 
clover  and  beautiful  grass  knee  high,  until  you 
reach  Stockton.  Indeed  all  the  best  lands  of  the 
San  Joaquin  River  are  admirably  suited  for  plant-  y 
ing  with  proper  drainage  and  cultivation. 

The  sea  breeze  at  this  season  is  cold  and  search- 
ing, keeping  the  thermometer  at  60  degrees  and 
62  degrees  for  days;  when  a  lull  comes  the  heat 
is  at  once  oppressive,  and  the  mercury  rises  to 
80  degrees  or  85  degrees,  and  the  heat  dances 
before  us  almost  in  palpable  shapes;  the  water  all 
stagnant  sends  its  odor  of  decaying  vegetation 
everywhere,  accompanied  by  myriads  of  mosqui- 
toes. These  conditions  exist  for  miles  over  the  ^ 
east  side,  towards  the  mountains  of  the  San  Joa- 
quin. 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


April  l6th.  I  am  still  at  Stockton  making 
various  excursions  with  Layton  and  his  friend 
Howard  from  New  Orleans,  and  sketching  con- 
stantly and  steadily.  I  am  indeed  crowding  all 
sail  to  start  for  home  on  the  steamer  which  sails  on 
June  I  St,  with  Capt.  Patterson.  I  have  made 
nearly  ninety  careful  sketches,  and  many  hasty 
ones,  the  most  interesting  I  have  been  able  to  find 
in  these  southern  mines,  and  expect  to  leave  in  a 
few  days  for  Sacramento. 

Stockton,  April  l8th.  I  am  hardly  fit  to  write 
for  I  have  just  had  most  melancholy  news  from 
Simson.  Lieut.  Browning,  my  dear  and  devoted 
friend ;  to  whom  I  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  which 
I  can  never  pay,  for  his  friendship  and  kindness  to 
me  last  year,  from  the  hour  that  he  took  my  hand 
on  the  accursed  Rio  Grande  River  until  we  parted 
in  San  Francisco,  has  been  drowned.  With  Lieuts. 
Bache  and  Blunt  he  was  examining  the  coast  near 
Trinidad  Bay,  and  on  attempting  to  land,  the  boat 
"broached  to"  in  the  breakers  and  capsized.  Five 
were  drowned,  among  them  Lieuts.  Browning  and 
Bache.  Thus  is  added  another  victim  to  our 
ill-fated  expedition.  Strange  that  from  first  to 
last  we  have  been  so  fatally  followed.  Night 
after  night  Browning  and  I  shared  the  same  tent, 
the  same  blankets;  we  knew  each  [other]  well,  we 
were  friends. 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  229 

April  2jd.  The  whole  country  to  the  north  and 
east  of  Stockton  through  to  the  Calaveras  is  most 
rich  and  splendid  soil,  but  in  many  places  too  low 
for  farming,  but  the  grazing  was  excellent,  quan- 
tities of  wild  oats,  rye  grass  (I  think),  clover  and 
a  species  resembling  red-top.  In  many  places  the 
grasses  were  breast  high  as  I  waded  through  them 
but  generally  full  knee-deep.  As  we  neared  the 
Calaveras  we  lost  our  way  trying  to  avoid  some 
bad  arroyos,  and  followed  a  trail  off  to  the  east- 
ward, perhaps  three  miles,  and  the  country  if 
changed  at  all,  changed  for  the  better.  Finding 
the  trend  of  the  trail  we  were  following  did  not 
suit  our  ideas  of  direction,  we  turned  back  at  even 
more  than  a  right  angle,  and  in  half  an  hour 
entered  a  wood  of  open  timber,  with  here  and 
there  a  lagoon  or  quagmire  of  mud  and  mire;  but 
we  worked  through  and  Layton  went  ahead  to 
reconnoitre,  and  in  about  twenty  minutes  reported 
the  river,  which  we  followed  down  on  a  good  firm 
cattle  trail,  and  in  half  an  hour  more  had  come  to 
the  upper  settlement  of  the  ferry,  and  were  stopped 
by  the  fences  of  newly  made  farms,  and  again 
driven  to  the  swamps  to  get  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  down  to  the  ferry. 

We  crossed  the  river  after  having  assisted  some 
Germans  with  about  six  hundred  sheep,  and 
camped  for  the  night  tired  enough,  having  made 


230  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

only  about  ten  miles,  but  walked  nearly  twenty  of 
hard  travel. 

April  24th.  As  the  traveller  leaves  the  north 
side  of  the  Calaveras  and  rises  higher,  the  ground 
becomes  cold  and  has  a  bluish-looking  clay  for  the 
road,  almost  as  hard  as  soft  brick,  and  more 
tenacious ;  there  are  streaks  of  sandy  soil,  and  in  a 
few  places  good  land;  this  is  scarce  however, 
between  the  Calaveras  and  Mokulumne  where  the 
Sacramento  road  crosses  the  plain.  The  last  three 
miles  of  the  road  is  through  a  pleasant,  half- 
wooded  country  of  live-oak  and  a  few  varieties 
of  other  shrubs,  for  the  whole  of  the  w^ood  is 
small. 

The  sandy  road  was  a  great  relief  to  us  after 
the  lumpy  one  of  the  morning,  and  we  tramped 
merrily  on,  until  we  reached  the  Mokulumne,  and 
saw  a  comfortable  (for  this  country) ,  log  and  jacal 
built  house,  and  passing  about  two  hundred  yards 
further  on,  spread  our  blankets  under  some  half 
dozen  magnificent  oaks,  and  after  washing  away 
the  dust  and  heat  in  the  clear,  cold  little  river,  very 
rapid  but  smooth,  ate  our  lunch  of  fried  pork  and 
bread,  and  stretched  ourselves  out  to  rest  for  an 
hour,  when  we  packed  up,  and  being  ferried  across 
in  a  pretty  good  flat-boat,  the  only  one  between 
Stockton  and  Sacramento,  we  continued  our  walk 
to  Dry  Creek  over  just  the  same  description  of 
country  we  had  had  in  the  morning;  but  it  became 


of  the  Gold-fields  231 


more  sandy  if  anything,  and  towards  evening  was 
more  of  a  rolling  country.  Before  we  camped  for 
the  night  we  swam  "Riley"  across  a  creek  about 
twenty  feet  wide,  and  paid  one  dollar  and  fifty 
cents  for  ourselves  and  belongings  to  cross  in  a  sort 
of  canoe,  which  took  us  about  five  minutes. 

At  the  ferry  house  was  a  comfortable  looking 
woman  with  four  little  children,  one  an  infant; 
like  the  Texans  she  told  us  they  had  plenty  of  cattle, 
but  only  one  milch  cow,  so  we  went  on. 

April  2Sth.  This  morning  mounting  a  slight 
rise  of  ground  we  at  once  found  ourselves  on  a  high 
dry,  too  dry,  prairie,  facing  a  bracing  northwest 
wind,  just  strong  enough  to  feel  it  stirring  up  our 
spirits,  and  we  went  cheerily  on  for  about  eight 
miles  to  a  bridge,  crossed  it,  and  for  about  two 
miles  had  a  succession  of  sloughs  to  cross,  some 
boggy,  some  quicksand,  others  we  had  to  swim. 
By  carefully  sounding  we  kept  our  packs  dry  in 
crossing,  and  safely  reached  the  back  of  Murphy's 
corrall,  where  I  skinned  a  magpie  I  had  shot,  and 
Layton  took  a  nap.  We  then  went  to  admire  Mr. 
Murphy's  fine  stock  of  brood  mares,  and  the  young 
horses  he  is  raising.  At  three  in  the  afternoon  we 
packed  and  left  for  Sacramento  City,  keeping  to 
the  road  for  eight  miles,  when  we  came,  to  a  wood 
where  we  collected  sufficient  fuel  for  our  evening 
cooking,  and  went  on  two  miles  or  so  to  a  lagoon 
of  excellent  water,  and  camped.     We  had  no  tent 


232  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

poles,  so  did  as  we  had  done  often  before,  spread 
one  side  of  the  tent  on  the  ground  and  laid  our 
blankets  on  that,  and  covered  ourselves  with  the 
other  part;  a  corner  was  put  over  my  gun  used  as  a 
pole,  which  gave  a  place  to  sit,  and  also  protected 
our  solitary  candle  from  the  wind,  so  we  ate  our 
supper  in  comfort,  and  enjoyed  a  kill-deer  and  a 
couple  of  snipe  we  had  shot. 

We  did  not  hear  a  sound  but  the  croakings  of 
hundreds  of  frogs  from  the  pond  by  our  side.  Our 
long  campings  out  had  accustomed  us  to  solitudes 
like  this,  but  on  our  desolate,  half  starving  march 
of  last  year,  doubt,  anxiety,  yes  and  fear,  had  always 
taken  from  the  complete  enjoyment  of  such  free- 
dom as  this.  The  country  was  so  flat  that  the 
horizon  was  lost  even  in  the  bright  moonlight,  and 
the  perfect  silence,  the  pure  cloudless  sky  overhead, 
the  quiet  little  lake,  tended  to  make  everything 
full  of  solemnity  and  peace. 

April  26th.  This  morning  half  a  gale  was  blow- 
ing from  the  northwest  and  we  were  glad  to  wear 
our  blanket  coats  until  the  sun  warmed  up  the  earth. 
We  reached  "Sutter's  Fort''  at  noon,  and  lay  down 
under  the  adobe  wall  to  take  our  lunch.  I  was 
disappointed  in  the  view  I  had  hoped  to  take ;  here, 
on  a  boundless  plain,  with  two  or  three  hospitals 
around  it,  stands  a  sort  of  rancho,  not  so  good  in 
many  respects  as  those  of  New  Mexico,  but  all  in 
the  same  style,  the  sides  being  a  series  of  rooms, 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  233 

one  corner  being  better  fitted  up  for  the  rancher 
and  his  family. 

Under  some  grand  old  oaks  three  hundred  feet 
to  the  eastward,  is  a  cemetery  containing  a  number 
of  graves  all  made,  they  tell  me,  last  year  when 
miners  and  emigrants  alike  succumbed  to  illness 
brought  on  in  many  cases  by  exposure,  poor  food, 
and,  in  some  cases,  doubtless  by  disappointed  hopes. 

Sacramento  City  is  a  country  village  built  on  a 
flat  point,  between  a  lagoon  and  the  river  just  below 
the  junction  of  American  River,  so  low  as  to  be 
eighteen  inches  under  average  high  water  mark. 
It  has  been  a  source  of  such  speculations  as  '36 
never  heard  of.  I  was  shown  a  plot  of  some  half- 
dozen  half  lots,  which  cost  last  fall  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  The  gentleman  who  owned 
them.  Dr.  Pierson,  told  me  he  had  sold  two  of 
them,  about  a  quarter  of  the  whole,  for  three  thou- 
sand five  hundred  dollars,  after  holding  them  six 
months.  Truly  people  did  come  to  California  to 
make  money,  and  some  made  it,  but  California  will 
for  the  present  lower  the  moral  tone  of  all  who 
come  here. 

There  are  few  refining  influences  and  men 
become  coarse  and  profane  in  language,  while  the 
hard  life  does  not  improve  the  temper;  the  sight 
of  the  gold  they  see  dug,  and  the  fortunes  they 
hear  of  that  have  been  made  in  months,  some  few 
even  in  weeks,  make  them  avaricious. 

15 


234  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

Many  lots  of  land,  valued  last  year  at  one  thou- 
sand dollars,  are  now  valued  at  ten  thousand 
dollars,  but  sooner  or  later  the  fall  must  come. 

Sutter's  Fort  appears  to  have  been  built  with 
great  care  as  to  its  means  of  defence,  though  at 
first  sight  a  visitor  would  be  puzzled  to  know  why 
it  was  called  a  fort  at  all ;  closer  examination  shows 
that  it  once  had,  from  all  appearances,  four  square 
towers,  some  twenty-five  feet  high,  one  at  each 
corner,  each  tower  mounting  four,  eighteen,  or  at 
most,  tv\'enty-four  pound  carronades,  and  the 
effect  of  these  on  the  Indians  was  all  that  was 
required  for  protection,  for  the  Indians  here  are 
a  very  low  class  and  poor  race,  far  inferior  to  the 
eastern  tribes,  and  like  the  Mexicans  cowardice  is 
their  chief  trait,  or  at  least  their  most  prominent 
one;  and  if  Mr.  Sutter  could  have  had  twenty 
faithful  followers,  he  must  have  been  "monarch 
of  all  he  surveyed." 

The  swampy  neighborhood,  bad  atmosphere, 
V  and  malarial  conditions  must  render  this  section 
of  country  unhealthy  to  a  great  degree  for  half  the 
year;  for  as  autumn  comes  on  the  daily  supply  of 
freshly-melted  snow-water  from  the  mountains 
will  no  longer  purify  the  lagoons  and  bayous  of 
the  vicinity. 
/  Fever  and  ague  is  very  prevalent  now,  and 
dysentery  feared  by  all.  Many  of  the  farmers  I 
find  here  tell  me  they  are  only  working  to  get 


^^ 


A   Dry  Gulch"    at  Coloma,   Sutter's   Mills 
May  2,   1850 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  237 

money  enough  to  get  back  with,  and  that  nothing 
would  induce  them  to  settle  here.  They  have 
unfortunately  not  seen  the  lower  part  of  the  valley 
and  what  lies  about  Los  Angeles  and  to  the  south- 
ward—  that  is  the  flower  of  California. 

April  2gth.  Alas,  is  it  for  good  or  for  bad 
luck,  that  I  have  just  learned  that  Layton  and 
myself  cannot  travel  with  safety  across  the  country 
here,  as  below,  on  account  of  the  ill-will  of  the 
Indians,  and  that  a  party  of  less  than  six  will  be 
unsafe  up  and  across  the  middle  fork  of  the  Amer- 
ican River.  How  stories  of  Indians  are  told  to 
every  traveller.  Though  often  near  them,  I  have 
never  found  any  who  were  not  greater  cowards 
than  myself,  and  we  leave  today  for  Sutter's  Mills, 
Georgetown,  etc.,  in  good  health  and  spirits. 

May  4th.  Coloma.  "Sutter's  Mills"  is  about 
fifty  miles  [distant],  nearly  east  of  Sacramento. 
The  road  to  it  after  passing  the  first  four  or  five 
miles  runs  through  a  sandy  soil,  covered  at  present 
with  what  we  call  "sneeze-weed."  There  is  no 
water,  until  after  leaving  the  river,  American 
Fork,  we  crossed  a  pretty  little  "spring  branch" 
as  it  would  be  called  in  Louisiana.  The  grass  is 
sparse  and  poor  along  the  whole  route,  and  the  face 
of  nature  looks  like  August  in  the  eastern  states,  so 
completely  that  as  the  refreshing  cool  breezes  come 
to  us  each  morning,  I  almost  fancy  it  is  the  first  of 
September.     But  in  the  valleys  and  on  the  hillsides 


238  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

the  heat  is  most  oppressive,  though,  as  in  England, 
if  you  stand  still  for  only  a  few  moments  in  the 
shade,  you  soon  feel  chilled  through. 

The  valley  here  is  not  as  wide  as  at  Stockton  by 
at  least  twenty  miles,  and  the  grand  masses  of  snow 
covered  mountains  seem  almost  within  a  day  of 
you,  whilst  south  you  still  have  distance  to  give 
additional  enchantment  to  the  view.  The  oaks 
here  are  small,  not  more  than  from  eighteen  inches 
to  two  feet  in  diameter;  if  the  soil  in  which  they 
grew  had  any  richness,  I  should  say  the  whole 
forest  was  of  forty  years  growth  at  most,  but  for  the 
occasional  presence  of  a  grove  of  magnificent  pines, 
from  a  hundred  to  nearly  two  hundred  feet  high. 
I  have  measured  many  at  the  angle  on  the  ground 
and  have  proved  it  with  rods  so  that  I  know  I  am 
very  nearly  correct  in  my  statement. 

May  6th.  Crossing  the  river  at  Coloma,  on  a 
good  bridge,  we  commenced  our  ascent  of  the  long 
and  in  many  places  very  steep  hill.  We  found  a 
start  at  dawn  would  have  been  much  better  than 
at  ten,  which  it  now  was,  as  our  poor  mule  "Riley" 
felt  the  heat  greatly;  but  with  occasional  pauseslup 
we  went,  passing  wrecked  wagons  and  broken 
pack-saddles  in  several  of  the  narrow  parts  of  the 
canons  that  the  road  wound  through.  We  were 
not  sorry  when  we  found  we  had  reached 
the  last  hill  and  mounted  it,  hoping  to  be  repaid 
by  some  distant  view,  but  on  no  side  could  we  see 


Tour  of  the  Gold-fields  239 

more  than  a  few  miles;  and  we  journeyed  on, 
wondering  who  would  be^  at  the  mushroom  town, 
Coloma,  renowned  for  being  the  place  where  gold 
was  first  found  by  the  whites. 

We  were  told  that  Captain  Sutter  had  made  a 
large  fortune  by  digging  gold  with  many  of  the 
Indians  he  had  about  him;  how  true  the  story  is, 
of  course,  I  cannot  say. 

[No  date.]  Starting  early  we  had  time  enough 
to  reach  Georgetown,  and  after  the  first  few  miles, 
were  pleased  to  see  a  most  favorable  change  in  the 
forest  we  passed  through.  A  better  class  of  white 
oaks  appeared,  and  following  up  a  beautiful  little 
creek  we  gradually  came  to  a  pine  growth  large 
and  magnificent;  both  yellow  and  white  pine  were 
there,  also  the  long  coned  pine,  and  many  superb 
cedars  over  a  hundred  feet  high.  In  many  places 
these  trees  were  felled,  and  split  into  laths  and 
joists  so  straight  and  fine  that  but  little  dressing 
was  requisite  to  fit  them  for  the  buildings  here 
constructed,  frame  houses  one  storey  high.  I  saw 
some  maples,  very  like  what  we  call  "soft"  maple, 
an  elm  or  two,  and  many  specimens  of  Nuttall's 
splendid  dogwood  in  full  bloom. 

The  ultramarine  jay  is  here  by  dozens,  robins, 
fly  catchers,  chats,  finches  by  hundreds.  I  see  daily 

^  The  text  is  here  slightly  confused.  Perhaps  Audubon 
wondered  what  would  become  of  the  "mushroom  town" 
through  which  he  had  just  passed. 


240  Audubon's  Western  Journal 

new  birds  and  plants  that  a  year's  steady  work 
could  not  draw,  but  if  our  government  would  send 
good  men,  what  a  work  of  national  pride  could  be 
brought  out!  Geology,  botany,  entomology,  zool- 
ogy, etc.  The  views  are  frequently  superb,  and 
the  hemlocks  and  pines  of  many  species  most 
beautiful. 

We  reached  Georgetown  —  two  rows  of  poor 
houses  and  sheds.  The  houses  all  one  storey,  but 
some  with  piazzas,  and  here  we  took  our  supper 
at  the  "Pine  settlement"  as  it  is  called. 


APPENDIX 

LIST  OF  MEMBERS  OF  THE  ORIGINAL  COMPANY^ 

[Extract  from  the  New  York  "Evening  Express,"  February  9,  1849.) 

A  COMPANY  of  young  men  started  yesterday  after- 
noon, who,  under  the  command  of  Major  H.  L. 
Webb  and  J.  W.  Audubon,  will  take  the  land 
route  via  Corpus  Christi,  Monterey,  etc.,  to  the 
gold  regions  of  California.  The  whole  company 
will  number  one  hundred.  Thirty-five  or  forty 
went  from  Philadelphia  yesterday. 

They  proceed  direct  to  Cairo,  which  is  the  ren- 
dez-vous  of  the  party;  here  they  will  be  joined  by 
companies  from  the  West.  At  New  Orleans  or 
thereabouts  as  most  convenient,  they  will  purchase 

^  The  number  of  persons  in  the  company  varied  widely  at 
different  times.  About  eighty  started  from  New  York.  The 
list,  here  reprinted  from  the  New  York  "Evening  Express," 
contains  seventy-five  names  but  does  not  claim  to  be  com- 
plete. Apparently  a  number  of  men  from  Philadelphia,  but 
not  as  many  as  stated  above,  joined  the  company,  since  it  is  re- 
peatedly described  as  "at  one  time  numbering  ninety-eight." 
The  implication  in  the  Journal  that  there  were  but  sixty-five 
at  Cairo  must  be  an  error.  About  fifty  started  from  Roma 
with  Mr.  Audubon  but  the  number  reached  fifty-seven  at 
Parras.  One  subsequently  died,  another  remained  at  Mapimi, 
three  left  the  company  at  Ures,  eleven  took  the  boat  from  San 
Diego  and  "about  forty"  continued  the  march  to  Los  Angeles. 
This  seems  to  have  been  the  number  of  the  reunited  company 
in  San  Francisco,  of  whom  thirty-eight,  including  Mr.  Audu- 
bon, made  the  tour  of  the  southern  mines. 


242 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


mules,  horses  and  all  necessary  equipments,  each 
man  finding  his  own  outfit. 

We  append  a  list  of  the  names  of  those  who  go 
from  here  in  this  company,  so  far  as  known. 


Audubon,  John  W. 
Ayres,  Venancia 
Bachman,  Jacob  H. 
Barclay,  William  B. 
Benson,  Leffert  L. 
Benson,  Robert,  Jr. 
Black,  John  A. 
Bloomfield,  John  J. 
Boden,  Hamilton  J. 
Brady,  Henry 
Brady,  John 
Cararley,  John 
Clement,  James  B. 
Combs,  Frederick  S. 
Cowden,  Henry 
Cree,  William  J. 
Damon,  Luke 
Davis,  Geradus  T. 
Delancy,  John 
Doubleday,  Ulysses 
Elmslie,  James  D. 
Ely,  Justin,  Jr. 
Graham,  Charles  Mont- 
rose 


Graham,  A.  Clason 
Graham,  A.  Spencer 
Hall,  Thomas  H.,  Jr. 
Havens,  Langdon  H. 
Hinckley,  Lyman  T. 
Hudson,  David 
Hutchinson,  William  A. 
Kashon,  Israel 
Kearney,  John,  M.  D. 
Lambert,  Edward  A. 
Lambert,  John  B. 
Lambert,  John  S. 
Lambert,  Joseph 
Lambert,  J.  Robert 
Lee,  Augustus  T. 
Liscomb,  Samuel  H. 
Liscomb,  William  H. 
Mallory,  Henry  C. 
McCusker,  Peter 
McGown,  Andrew  J. 
Molinear,  William  D. 
Nevin,  Andrew  M. 
Osgood,  E.  W. 
Plumb,  John  H. 


Members  of  Original  Company  243' 


Powell,  Emmett 
Rodgers,  J.  Kearney,  Jr. 
Sherwood,  James  W. 
Sherwood,  Richard  W. 
Shipman,  Aaron  T. 
Sloat,  Lewis  M. 
Steele,  George  D. 
Stevens,  John 
Stille,  Henry 
Stivers,  Daniel  A. 
Stivers,  William  D. 
Tallman,  Harmon 
Tone,  John  H. 
Trask,  John  B.,  M.  D. 


Valentine,  Charles 
Valentine,  Thomas  B. 
Valentine,  Matthias  B". 
Van  Buren,  George  T. 
Watkinson,  Joseph  S. 
Walsh,  Nicholas  J. 
Warner,  James 
Webb,  Edward  C. 
Webb,  Watson 
Weed,  George 
Whittlesey,  Gilbert  B. 
Whittlesey,  William 
Williamson,  Isaac  H. 
Winthrop,  Francis  B. 


INDEX 


ABERT,  Lieut.  James  W.,  142. 
Alamito,  95. 
Alamo  River,  74,  76. 
Altar,  16,  143-145. 
American  River,  233,  237. 
Angel's  Diggings,  210. 
Aquafrio,  85. 
Arizona,  154-165. 
Audubon,  Caroline  Hall,  26. 
Audubon,    John    James,   21-28, 

35,  41. 
Audubon,  John  Woodhouse,  12, 

14-18;  241,  242;    memoir,  21- 

38;  Journal,  41-240. 
Audubon,  Lucy,  'J6. 
Audubon,    Lucy    Bakewell,    21- 

25,  27. 
Audubon,  Maria  Bachman,  26. 
Audubon,  Victor  Gifford,  22,  25, 

36. 
Ayres,  Venancia,  169,  195,  242. 


BACHMAN,  Jacob  H.,  75,  83, 
85,  168,  169,  174,  199,  2i± 

Bakewell,  Howard,  61,  64,  65, 
204. 

Bakewell,  W.  G.,  46,  48. 

Baltimore,  14,  44. 

Barclay,  William  B.,  70,  242. 

Barratt, -,  119,  140. 

Bartlett,  John  Russell,  84,  168. 

Benson,  Leffert  L.,  61,  70,  242. 

Benson,  Robert,  Jr.,  58,  61,  70, 
242. 

Berthoud,  Nicholas,  22. 

Birds,  56,  86,  111,  146;  bald-pates. 
175;  buzzards,  221;  Caracara 
eagles,  139;  chats,  239;  cliff 
swallow,  129;  finches,  202,  239; 
fly  catchers,  239;  gadwalls, 
175;  geese,  183,  184,  185,  216; 
hawk,  182;  heron.  111,  185;  jay, 
182,  202,  239;  mallard,  224; 
partridge,  159,  223;  plover, 
224;  quail,  202;  raven,  203; 
robin,  202, 239;  sandhill  cranes, 
183;  vulture,  176,182,221,223. 
224;  woodpecker,  128, 182,  202. 


"Birds  of  America,"  23,  36-37. 
Black,  John  A.,  106. 115, 195,  242. 
Bloomfield,  John  J.,  75,  195,  197. 

242. 
Boden,  Hamilton  J.,  60,  61,  63, 

116,  204,  242. 
Boggs,  Biddle,  51,  138,  153,  187, 

195. 
Brady,  Henry,  61,  70,  242. 
Brady,  John,  61,  70,  242. 
Brazos,  50,  51. 

Brice,  Maj.  Benjamin  W.,  52. 
Browning,   Lieut.,  U.  S.  N.,  34, 

71,  77,  78,  79,  81,  85,  94,  102, 

120,  125,  170,  171, 179, 193,  195, 

197,  228. 
Brownsville,  15,  45,  51-55. 
Buena  Vista,  16,  91. 


CACTUS,  93,  136,  142,  157. 

Cairo  (Illinois),  15,46,  241. 

Calaveras,  207,  209,  229,  230. 

Caldwell,  Lieut.  James  N.,  69. 

California,  11,  13,  165-240. 

Camargo,  58. 

Camels,  12. 

Campbell,  Dr.,  63-66,  72,  73,  77. 

Camp  Ringgold.    See  Ringgold. 

Cararley,  John,  242. 

Carrol,  Frank,  85,  92,  106,  110, 

111. 
Carson's  Creek,  213. 
Cerralvo,  84. 
Cerro  Gordo,  99-100. 
Cerro  Prieto,  118. 
Chapman,  Maj.    Wm.    Warren, 

50.  56. 
China  (Mexico),  58. 
Chinese  Diggings,  200,  202,  203, 

204,  209,  216,  217,  225. 
Cholera,  14-16,  50,  58-71,  74,  94, 

105. 
Cincinnati,  45. 
Circus,  100,  102. 
Clement,  James  B.,  29,  33,  51, 

61,  70,  77,  140,  195,  199,  204, 

242. 
Cole,  Thomas,  138. 


246 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


Collier.  Col.  James,  165,  167. 

Coloma,  17,  237.  238,  239. 

Colorado  River,  16,  163. 

Combs,  Frederick  S.,  74,  75,  242. 

Concepcion,  113. 

Conchos  River,  110. 

Cooke,  Col.  Philip  St.   George, 

155. 
Cooke's  Wells,  166. 
Couts,  Cave  Johnson,  161,  163, 

164. 
Cowden,  Henry,  70,  242. 
Coyote,  211,212,  213. 
Cumberland,  14,  44. 
Cree,  William  J.,  174,  195,  242. 
Creosote  plant,  158. 


DAMON,  Luke,  75,  195,  242. 
Davis,  Clay,  68,  69,  77,  78. 
Davis,  Geradus  T.,  242. 
Davis's  Rancho,  55,  59,  64,  71, 

104. 
Delancy,  John,  242. 
Don  Pedro's  Bar,  224. 
Doubleday,  Ulysses,  83,  85,  242. 
Dry  Creek,  230. 


ELMSLIE,  James  D.,  70,  83, 85, 

195,  242. 
El  Pozo,  94. 
El  Valle,  102. 
Ely,  Justin,  Jr.,  61,  70,  242. 
Exchange  Hotel,  187. 


FLORIDA,  Rio,  101. 

Follen, ,  61,  70. 

Frejoles,  137. 
Fremont,  John  C,  142. 
French  Camp,  187. 
French  Creek,  227. 
Frenchtown,  44. 


GABILANA,  117. 

Gaines,  Gen.  Edmund  Pendle- 
ton, 48. 

Gambling,  177, 188, 193, 196, 197, 
206,  214. 

Georgetown,  17,  237,  239,  240. 

Gila  valley,  155-163. 


Gold,  discuverv  of,  11,  13. 
Gold-fields,  199-240. 
Graham,  A.  Clason,  242. 
Graham,  A.  Spencer,  242. 
Graham,  Charles  Montrose,  91- 

92,  242. 
Graham,  Col.  James  D.,  155. 
Grasshoppers,  as  food,  150. 
Green  Springs,  223,  224. 


HALL,  Thomas  H.,  Jr.,  242. 
Harrison,  W.  H.,  59,  61,  64,  65, 

67. 
Havens,  Langdon  H.,  33,  62,  71, 

111,138,  165,  174,193,195,242. 
Hawkins's  Bar,  217,  218,221,223. 
Hays,  Col.  John  C,  29,  75. 

Hewes, ,  195. 

Hidalgo.     See  Parral. 
Hinckley,   Lyman   T.,   59,   105, 

138,  195,  242. 

Horde, ,68.71. 

"Hounds,"  188. 

Howard,  N.,  223,  224,  228. 

Hudson,  David,  62,  75,  127,  185, 

187, 195,  199,  242. 
Hutchinson,  William  A.,  195,242. 


INDEPENDENCE  (Missouri), 

13,  14. 
Indian  Bluff,  224. 
Islip's,  199. 


JAMESTOWN,  215. 
Jesus  Maria,  120-122. 


KASHON,  I.^rael,  242. 

Kearney,  John,  M.  D.,  72,  242. 

Kearny,  Gen.  Stephen  W.,  13, 
16. 

Kingsland,  Daniel  C.  and  Am- 
brose, 14,  31,  34. 


LABRADOR,  24. 
La  Cadena,  97. 

Lambert,  Edward  A.,  106.  195. 
242 


Index 


247 


Lambert,  John  Booth,  58-59,  242. 
Lambert,  John  Robert,  195,  242. 
Lambert,  John  S.,  106,  195,  242. 
Lambert,  Joseph,  106,  195,  242. 
La  Motte,  Maj.  Joseph  H.,  55, 

67,  71. 
"Landmarks  Club,"  180. 
Laurel  Hill,  45. 
Layton,  Robert,  17, 180, 163, 195, 

206,  217,  228,  224, 228. 229, 231, 

237. 
La  Zarca,  98. 

Lee,  Augustus  T.,  174,  195,  242. 
Liscomb,  Samuel  H.,  63,  66,  105, 

110,  195,  242. 
Liscomb,   William    H.,    61,  65, 

242. 
Lizards,  as  food,  150. 
Los  Angeles,    16,  178,  179,  218, 

237 
Luis  key,  175-176. 


MAGUEY,  72,  89. 

Mallory,  Henry  C,  33,  82,  107, 
108,  163,  179,  190,  193,  195, 
242. 

Mammals:  Antelope,  98,  112, 
183;  black-tailed  deer,  181, 
202;  California  marmot,  112, 
175,  202;  elk,  183,  184,  185; 
grizzly  bear,  202;  hare,  black- 
tailed,  98, 112;  hare,  California, 
202,  224;  hare,  small,  202; 
pocket  mouse,  149;  squirrels, 
202;  wild  horses,  185;  wolves, 
185. 

Mapimi,  16,  96-97. 

Marcy,  Gen.  Randolph  B.,  168. 

Maricopa  Indians,  156,  161,  213. 

Marin,  85. 

Matamoras,  51,  52. 

Maybury, ,  108,  109. 

Maximilian,  Prince  of  Wied,  51. 

Mazatlan,  88,  142. 

McCown,  Capt.  John  Porter,  30, 
71,  77,  80. 

McCusker,  Peter,  195,  242. 

McGown,  Andrew  J.,  195,  199, 
242. 

McLea, ,  193,  195. 

Mescal,  89. 

Mesquite,  54. 


Meteoric  iron,  103. 

Mexico,  84-154. 

Mier,  82,  83. 

Mining  at  Jesus  ^L'^ria,  121. 

Mining  camps,  200. 

Mining,  methods  of,  221-223. 

Minnicsland,  27. 

Missions,   17,  170-171,  175.   176. 

177,  180. 
Mississippi  River.  46-49. 

Mitchell, ,  70.  79,  195. 

Mokelumne:    Hill,   208;  mines, 

208;  "rich   gulch."  208;  river, 

230. 
Molinear,  William  D..  92,  242. 
Money,  stolen,  66-68,  71.  73,  77, 

78. 
Monterey.  16,  86-87,  195,  241. 
Mormon  Gulch,  214. 
Murray,  Lieut.  Edward,  172,  173. 
Murphy's  Diggings,  204,  211. 
Murphy's  New  Diggings.  210. 


NEVIN,  Andrew  M.,  242. 
New  Orleans,  15,  48-49,  241. 
New  York  City,  14,  41-43. 
Number,  in  company,  241. 


ORD,  Lieut.  E.  O.  C,  172. 
Oregon  trail,  13. 
Osgood,  E.  W..  142,  242. 


PAPAGO  Indians,  147-152. 
Paragarto.  129. 
Parral,  16,  102-106. 
Parras,  16,  91,  93. 
Paso  Chapadaro,  116. 
Payote,  186,  208,  213. 
Pennypacker, ,  106, 108, 152, 

195. 
Peons,  89. 

Perry,  Dr.,  92,  174,  195. 
Philadelphia,  44,  241. 
Pima  Indians,  16,  143,  155,  156. 

161,213. 
Pitochi,  118. 
Pittsburg,  15,  45. 
Plumb,  John  H.,  142.  242. 
Popagallos,  85. 
Powell,  Emmett,  243. 


248 


Audubon's  Western  Journal 


Prices,  113,  189. 
Pulque,  89. 


"QUADRUPEDS    of    North 
America,"  27,  30,  36-37. 


RAMOS,  85. 
Rattlesnake,  147. 

Rhoades, ,  117,  119,  181. 

Rinconada.  89. 

Rinconada  Pass,  90. 

Ringgold,  Camp,  55,  64,  67,  69, 

82. 
Rio  Florida,  101. 
Rio  Grande  City,  15,  55,  59,  62. 
Rio  Grande  ( river ) ,  15,  49-83. 
Robber's  Rancho,  85. 
Rocky  Mountains,  106-110. 
Rodeers,  John  Kearney,  Jr.,  47, 

72,  243. 
Roma,  15,  61,  72. 
Routes  to  California,  13. 


SACRAMENTO  City,  17,  231, 

233.  287. 
Salmon,  185. 
Saltillo,  16,  88,  90-91. 
San  Antonio  de  Bexar,  178. 
San  Diego,  16,  171,  174,  206. 
San  Diego  Mission,  170. 
San  Felipe,  168. 
San  Fernando,  180. 
San  Francisco,  16,  17,  190,  193, 

195. 
San  Joaquin  River,  16,  183,  184, 

190,  221,  227. 
San  Pedro,  178. 
Santa  Borgia,  118. 
Santa  Cruz,  110. 
Santa  F^  trail,  13. 
Santa  Maria,  170,  206. 
Santa  Rosa,  135. 
Sherwood,  James  W.,  243. 
Sherwood,  Richard  W.,  243. 
Shipman,  Aaron  T.,  61,  66,  70, 

243. 
Sierra  Nevada,  175,  176,  225. 
Simson,   Robert,  33,  59,  61,  64, 

65,  67,  68,  70,  77,  91,  95,  108, 

179.  185.  195,  197.  228. 


Sloat,  Lewis  M.,  138,  165,  174, 

243. 
Sonora  (Mexico),  16. 
Sonora  Camp,  217. 
Soyopa,  137. 
Stampede,  95. 
Stanislaus  River,   186,  199,  204. 

212,  214,  227. 
Steele,  George  D.,  169,  174,  195, 

243. 
Stevens,  John,  33,  61,  63,  64,  70, 

163,  169,  174, 195,  197.  243. 
Stevenson,  John,  195. 
Stevenson,  Joseph, 128. 
Stille,  Henry,  243. 
Stivers,  Daniel  A.,  243. 
Stivers,  William  D.,  243. 
Stockton,  16,  186,  187.  190,  195, 

197,  199,  202, 206, 207,  225,  227- 

229,  238. 
Suisun  Bay,  190. 
Sutter,  Capt.  John  A.,  239. 
Sutter's  Fort,  232,  234. 
Sutter's  Mills,  237. 


TABLE  Mountain,  215. 

Tallman,  Harmon,  61,  70,  243. 

Tarahumara  Indians,  113,  114. 

Teller, ,  105,  106. 

Texas,  11,  29,  41. 

Thorn,  Capt.  Herman,  161.  165. 

Tomochic,  115. 

Tone,  Alice  Walsh,  32. 

Tone,  John  H.,  32,  33,  110.  195. 
205,  243. 

Tonichi,  137. 

Trask,  John  B.,  M.  D.,  58,  60, 
61,62,74,85,108,112,  119,158, 
174, 195,  243. 

Trees:  Cedars,  239;  cotton- 
woods,  178, 181;  dogwood,  239; 
elm,  239;  hemlocks,  240;  laurel, 
206;  maples,  239;  mesquite, 
54;  oaks,  178,  185,  206,  227, 
230.  233,  238;  oak,  live.  200, 
230;  oak,  post,  200.  201,  218. 
223,  224;  oak,  swamp,  200;  oak, 
white,  239;  pines,  201, 206, 210, 
238,  239,  240;  redwoods,  196, 
206;  sycamores,  178,  206. 

Trinidad,  133-134. 

Tulare  valley,  16,  179,  182. 


Index 


249 


Tuolumne,    202,    209,  217,  218, 
224. 


URES,  16, 139-141. 


VALENTINE,  Charles,  243. 
Valentine,  Matthias  B.,  243. 
Valentine,  Thomas  B.,  243. 
Van  Buren,  George  T.,  195,  243. 


WALNUT  Springs,  85. 
Walsh,  Nicholas  J.,  33,  59,61,( 

70,  126-127,  168,  169, 195,  2( 

243. 
Warner,  James,  243. 
Watkinson,  Joseph  S.,  114,  T 

195,  243. 
Webb,  Edward  C,  243. 


Webb,  Col.  Henry  L.,  14,  15,31, 
42,  47,  48,  53,  55,  58,  60,  61,  73, 
74,  76,  79,  80,  81,  82,  83,  203, 
241. 

Webb,  Watson,  243. 

Weed,  George,  91,  157,  169,  195, 
243. 

West,  settlement  of,  12. 

Whipple,  Lieut.  Amiel  W.,  162, 

Whittlesey,  Edward,  63. 
Whittlesey,  Gilbert  B.,  243. 
Whittlesey,  William,  243. 
Williamson,  Isaac  H..  243. 
Winthrop,  Francis  B.,  24.3. 
Wislizenus,  Dr.  A.,  84,  142. 
Wood's  Creek,  214. 
Wood's  Diggings,  210,  215,  216, 
217. 

YAQUI  River,  137. 

Yorktown,  215. 

Yuma  Indians,  161,  162,  213. 


Important 
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Important 
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PERSONAL  NARRATIVE 


OF 


Travels  in  Virginia^  Jllaryland^ 
Tennsylvania^  Ohioy  Indiana ^ 
I(entucky*  and  of  a  Residence  in 
the  Illinois  Territory:  1817-1818 

BY 

ELIAS  PYM  FORDHAM 

With  facsimiles  of  the  author's  sketches  and  plans 

Edited  with  Notes,  Introduction,  Index,  etc.,  by 

FREDERIC  AUSTIN  OGG,  A.M. 

tA'uthor  of  "  The  Opening  of  the  ^Mississippi" 


LISHEd'ms'  ^^'^  hitherto  unpublished  MS.,  which  is  a 
real  literary  and  historical  find,  was  written 
in  1 8 1 7- 1 8  by  a  young  Englishman  of  excellent  education 
who  assisted  Morris  Birkbeck  in  establishing  his  Illinois 
settlement.  The  author  writes  anonymously,  but  by  a 
careful  study  of  various  allusions  in  the  Narrative  and 
from  information  furnished  by  the  family  in  possession 
of  the  MS.,  has  been  identified  as  Elias  Pym  Fordham. 
Landing  at  Baltimore,  he  reached  the  West  by  way  of 
Philadelphia,  Pittsburg,  and  the  Ohio  River  to  Cincinnati, 
describing  the  people  and  the  country  as  he  went  along. 
THE  MIDDLE  Fordham  was  an  especially  well-qualified 
WEST  IN  1817  observer  of  the  Middle  West  because  of 
the  numerous  journeys  he  undertook,  on  land-hunting 
trips  for  new  emigrants,  in  the  service  of  Mr.  Birkbeck. 
These  journeys  led  him  into  Indiana,  Ohio,  and  Kentucky; 


FO'KpHAM'S  "PERSONAL  NARRATIVE 

and  he  never  omits  the  opportunity  to  make  frank  and 
pointed  comment  on  society,  manners,  and  morals,  as  well 
as  careful  observations  of  the  face  of  the  country  and  of 
industrial  conditions.  The  style  is  quite  unaffected  and 
has  much  natural  charm  and  sprightliness;  and  the  fact 
that  he  wrote  anonymously  made  him  much  more  free  in 
his  comments  on  contemporary  society  than  would  other- 
wise have  been  possible. 

LOCAL  AND  These  journeys  also  gave  him  unexampled 
PIONEER.  opportunities  for  contact  with  the  pioneers 

HISTORY  Q^  |.}^g  Middle  West,  and  his  journal  is  con- 

sequently rich  in  personalia  of  early  settlers,  remarks  on 
contemporary  history  and  politics,  state  of  trade,  agricul- 
ture, prices,  and  information  on  local  history  not  obtain- 
able elsewhere.  He  also  visited  the  larger  cities  and  gives 
very  interesting  accounts  of  Pittsburg  and  Cincinnati,  ac- 
companied by  original  sketches  and  plans.  In  Kentucky 
he  had  the  opportunity  to  study  slavery;  and  although  at 
first  prejudiced  against  this  institution  he  finally  reached 
the  conclusion  that  the  slave  states  offered  better  chances 
of  successful  settlement  than  the  free  states. 
VALUE  FOR  ^^^  publication  of  Fordham's  Narrative 
READERS  AND  with  introduction,  extensive  annotations, 
STUDENTS  ^^^  index  by  Professor  Frederic  A.  Ogg,  one 
of  the  best  authorities  on  the  history  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  will  make  accessible  to  historical  students  much 
new  and  important  material,  besides  giving  the  general 
reader  a  book  of  vital  and  absorbing  interest. 

Printed  direct  from  type  on  Dickinson's  deckle-edged 
paper,  and  illustrated  with  original  sketches  and  plans,  in 
one  volume,  8vo,  about  1 80  pages,  cloth,  uncut. 

Price  ^3.00  net. 

The  Arthur  H.  Clark  Company 

TWBLISHEliS  CLEVELAND,  OHIO 


The  First  (Circumnavigation  of  the  Qlobe 

MAGELLAN'S  VOYAGE 
AROUND  THE  WORLD 

By  ANTONIO  PIGAFETTA 

The  original  and  complete  text  of  the  oldest  and  best  MS. 
(the  Ambrosian  MS.  of  Milan,  of  the  early  XVI  cen- 
tury). The  Italian  textwith  page-for-page  English  trans- 
lation. Translated,  edited,  and  annotated  by  James  A. 
Robertson,  of  the  editorial  staff  of  "The  Jesuit  Rela- 
tions and  Allied  Documents"  and  co-editor  of  "The 
Philippine  Islands:  1493-1898."  IVith  numerous  maps, 
plates,  and  facsimiles. 

"By  far  the  best  and  fullest  account  of  the  expedition."  —  (^uillemard. 


IGAFETTA'S  ACCOUNT,  the  fullest 
and  best  authority  for  the  famous  Voyage 
of  Magellan,  is  here  completely  present- 
ed in  English  for  the  first  time.  Piga- 
fetta  was  an  Italian  of  noble  family, 
interested  in  navigation  and  fond  of 
travel.  Happening  to  be  in  Spain  when 
Magellan  was  about  to  sail,  he  secured  permission  to 
accompany  the  expedition.  Pigafetta  kept  a  detailed 
account  of  the  incidents  of  the  voyage  and  faithfully 
recorded  his  observations  on  the  geography,  climate, 
and  resources  of  the  numerous  strange  countries  vis- 
ited or  described  to  him.  Of  especial  value  are  his 
remarks  on  the  customs,  physical  character,  and  lan- 
guages of  the  various  peoples  of  South  America,  and 
the  Ladrones,  Philippines  and  other  Asiatic  Islands. 
Pigafetta's  Account,  notwithstanding  its  great  im- 


portance  to  students,  has  never  been  adequately  pub- 
lished. Stanley,  in  his  translation  for  the  Hakluyt 
Society,  omits  many  passages  relating  to  the  manners 
and  customs  of  native  peoples,  mis-translates  other 
passages;  and  furthermore  does  not  translate  from 
the  original  Italian,  but  in  part  from  a  defective 
French  MS.  of  later  date,  and  in  part  from  Amoretti's 
garbled  printed  edition  of  the  Ambrosian  MS. 

The  MS.  which  we  use  is  the  oldest  in  existence 
and  is  conserved  in  the  Biblioteca  Ambrosiana  at 
Milan.  This  MS.  was  purported  to  have  been  pub- 
lished in  I  800  by  Amoretti,  but  his  publication  was 
what  the  Italians  call  a  refacimento,  in  which  the 
order  is  entirely  changed  at  times  to  say  nothing  of 
the  meaning.  To  insure  a  correct  version  of  the  text, 
the  editor,  Mr.  Robertson,  visited  Milan  and  under- 
took the  transcription  personally. 

The  numerous  charts  of  the  original  are  carefully 
reproduced,  together  with  a  rare  early  map,  showing 
Magellan's  discoveries  in  the  Far  East.  To  preserve 
the  archaic  forms  and  peculiar  letters  of  the  old 
Italian,  type  has  been  specially  designed  and  cut  for 
many  peculiar  characters.  The  editing  and  annota- 
tion are  elaborate  and  exhaustive;  an  Index  and  a 
complete  Bibliography  are  added,  making  this  the 

BEST  EDITION  OF  PIGAFETTA  IN  ANY  LANGUAGE 

Issued  in  a  limited  edition  of  350  copies  only. 
Printed  direct  from  type  on  Dickinson's  deckle- 
edged  paper.  Two  volumes,  large  8vo,  cloth,  uncut, 
gilt  top.      Price  $7.50  net. 

The  Arthur  H.  Clark  Company 

'^U'BLISHE%S  CLEVELAND,  OHIO 


^  AN  AUTHORITY  OF  THE  HIGHEST  IMPORTANCE"-'WmsQt 


THE 

PRESENT 

STATE 

OF    THE 

EUROPEAN  SETTLEMENTS 

ON    THE 

MISSIS 

I      P      P      li 

WITH 

A  Geocrapiiical  Descrift 

ON  of  thai  River. 

ILtUSTRATtB 

BY 

PLANS     AND     DRAUGHTS. 

By   CaptiiB    PHILIP    P 

T  T  M  A  N. 

LONDON 

PriDUd  for  J.  NouRsE,  Bookfcllcr  i 

H,s  MAJESTV. 

MDCC1.X.X. 

Edited  with  Introductio?i,  Notes,  and  Index,  by 

FRANK  HEYWOOD  HODDER 

Professor  of  American  History,  University  of  Kansas 

THIS  exceedingly  rare  work  was  issued  in  London,  in  i  770,  and 
has  been  so  much  in  demand  by  historical  students  and  collectors 
of  Americana  that  even  imperfect  copies  of  the  original  are  now  almost 
impossible  to  obtain  at  any  price.  Our  text  is  from  a  perfect  copy  of 
the  original  with  all  the  folding  maps  and  plans  carefully  reproduced. 

*Only  two  copies  have  been  offered  for  sale  during  the  past  five  years ;  one  copy  sold 
at  $95.00,  and  the  other  is  now  offered  by  a  reliable  firm  of  booksellers  at  $105.00. 


PITTMAN'S    MISSISSIPPI    SETTLEMENTS 

Pittman's  Mississippi  Settlements  contains  much  valuable  original  ma- 
^  1       hi       tsf'^l  for  the  study  of  the  French  and  Spanish 

yi  ValuaOle  settlements  of  old  Louisiana,  West  Florida,  and 
source,  work  ^^  Illinois  country.  The  author,  Captain  Philip 
Pittman,  was  a  British  military  engineer,  and 
gives  an  accurate  general  view^  of  the  Mississippi  Settlements  just  after 
the  English  came  into  possession  of  the  eastern  half  of  the  valley  by 
the  Peace  of  1 763.  His  account,  written  from  personal  observation, 
is  rich  in  allusions  to  the  political,  social,  and  military  readjustments 
resulting  from  this  change  of  possession.  "A  comprehensive  account 
of  the  Illinois  country  and  its  inhabitants,  with  sketches  in  detail  of 
the  several  French  posts  and  villages  situated  therein,  as  personally 
viewed  by  him  in  1766-67.  .  .  .  It  contains,  in  a  compact  form,  much 
useful  and  reliable  information  (nowhere  else  to  be  found)  concern- 
ing the  Mississippi  Valley  and  its  people  at  that  transition  period." 
—  Wallace;  Illinois  and  Louisiana  under  French  Rule. 

Dr.  William  F.  Poole  in  Winsor's  Narrative  and  Critical  History  of 
cj-J  /•      .  America  %?q%:     "  It  is  the  earliest  English 

1  n6  eUTLteSt  account   of  those  settlements,  and,  as   an 

English  account  ^^'Y''^. '"  ^^'^^  ^"S^"  f^^^'^-  '\  °^  '"^^ 

o  highest  importance.    He  [rittmanj  was  a 

military  engineer,  and  for  five  years  was  employed  in  surveying  the 
Mississippi  River  and  exploring  the  western  country.  The  excellent 
plans  which  accompany  the  work,  artistically  engraved  on  copper, 
add  greatly  to  its  value." 

An  introduction,  notes,  and  index  have  been  supplied  by  Professor 

J  .         7  Frank  Heywood  Hodder,  who  has  made  a 

yinnotatton  by         special  study  of  American  historical  geo- 

Pr  of  ess  or  Hodder  ^^^^"^"f'    ^^^  ^^'"^  ?^  ^^^  reprint  is  thus 
J  enhanced  by  annotation  embodying  the  re- 

sults of  the  latest  researches  in  this  field  of  American  history. 


The  edition  is  limited  to  500  copies,  each  numbered.  It  is  hand- 
somely printed  in  large  Caslon  type  on  Dickinson's  deckle-edged 
paper.  With  folding  maps  and  plans.   Large  8vo,  cloth,  uncut,  gilt  top. 

Price  ^3.00  net. 


rHE  ARTHUR  H  CLARK  COMPANY 

TWBLISHEliS  CLEVELAND,   OHIO 


Early  Western  Travels 

=====  1 748  - 1 846  === 

A  SERIES  of  Annotated  Reprints  of  some  of  the  best 
and  rarest  contemporary  volumes  of  travel,  descrip- 
tive of  the  Aborigines  and  Social  and  Economic  Condi- 
tions in  the  Middle  and  Far  West,  during  the  Period  of 
Early  American  Settlement. 

Edited  with  Historical,  Geographical,  Ethnological,  and  Bibliographical 
Notes,  and  Introdudlions  and  Index,  by 

Reuben  Gold  Thwaites,  ll.d. 

With  facsimiles  of  the  original  title-pages,  maps,  portraits, 
views,  etc.  3 1  volumes,  large  8vo,  cloth,  uncut,  gilt  tops. 
Price  I4.00  net  per  volume  (except  the  Maximilien  Atlas, 
which  is  ^15.00  net).  The  edition  is  limited  to  750  com- 
plete sets, each  numbered  and  signed;  but  in  addition  there- 
to, a  limited  number  of  the  volumes  will  be  sold  separately. 

An  Elaborate  Analytical  Index  to  the  Whole 

<'  This  new  series  of  historical  and  geographical  works  by  the  scholarly 
editor  of 'The  Jesuit  Relations  and  Allied  Documents,'  promises  to  be 
particularly  valuable  and  of  more  than  usual  popular  interest.  All  the 
books  are  rare,  some  of  them  exceedingly  so,  no  copy  being  found  in  the 
largest  collections  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  or  in  many  abroad.  They 
are  copiously  explained  and  illustrated  by  introductions  and  notes,  bio- 
graphical sketches  of  the  authors,  bibliographical  data,  etc.  The  Series 

should,  of  course,  be  in  every  public,  collegiate,  and  insti- 
tutional library,  to  say  nothing  of  private  collections  of 
respectable  rank.  The  works  included  naturally  vary  in  literary 
merit  and  attractiveness,  but  many  of  them  will  compare  favorably 
with  the  better  class  of  modern  books  of  travel,  while  some  are  as  fas- 
cinating as  the  best  fiction." — The  Critic. 


The  Arthur  H.  Clark  Company 
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